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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544694">Forgetting to Remember</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chain_unchained/pseuds/chain_unchained'>chain_unchained</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout: New Vegas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fanfiction, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:15:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,015</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chain_unchained/pseuds/chain_unchained</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After being on the receiving end of a gun, Courier Six doesn't remember much of anything-- not even his own name. He sets out in search of reminders of his past, getting swept up in a myriad of Mojave troubles. But remembering may not be all it's cracked up to be...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Courier/Arcade Gannon, Male Courier/Raul Tejada</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“…You got what you were after, so pay up.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>A voice, gruff and curt as the darkness began to lift. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re crying in the rain, pally.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Another voice—lighter, carefree, calculated. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hm? Guess who’s waking up over here?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A third, heavily accented. Three faces swam into view against a blinding backdrop of lights. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Time to cash out.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The second voice spoke again. One of the faces drew closer, too blurry to make out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Would you get it over with?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The first, impatient. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Maybe Khans kill people without looking them in the face, but I ain’t a fink, dig?” Disdain and scorn weighed the second’s down. They drew closer, kneeling down to look the confused courier in the eye. “You’ve made your last delivery, kid.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>A shiny gun gleamed in their right hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry you got twisted up in this scene. From where you’re kneeling, it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. Truth is…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They raised the gun and took aim, their finger resting on the trigger. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The game was rigged from the start.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>####</p><p>Was it all a dream? Staring up at an unfamiliar darkened ceiling seemingly moments after the gunshot rang out, he struggled to recall the details once more. The faces, he couldn’t make out. It was like a fast-fading nightmare.</p><p>Who was he? He didn’t know. Where was he? He didn’t know that, either. Nothing from before that moment would come no matter how hard he tried to remember.</p><p>Simply trying to was enough to make his head feel fit to split in two, so he didn’t, and cautiously began to wiggle his extremeties. Maybe it was just a nightmare then; he was able to move around entirely too well to have taken a bullet to the grey matter.</p><p>Sitting up took some effort, though, as though his muscles had lost their strength. The shift in position made the world around him sway like a cruise ship in a storm and make his stomach churn; he had to stop once he was sitting and let things settle a bit before he tried to move again.</p><p>After a few moments, he swung shaky legs over the side of the bed and planted his feet on the ground. His knees buckled slightly as he put weight on them, but they held, and he was able to stand with relative ease.</p><p>He definitely didn’t recognize this room. Nothing in it was familiar, but then again, that didn’t mean much when he couldn’t remember much of anything at all.</p><p>Faint voices filtered in through the gap under the door. Confused and more than a little curious, he took a careful step towards it, testing the waters of walking. No problems so far. Good, he at least had that much going for him.</p><p>The door swung open without him having to touch the handle, and light flooded in from the outside. He could make out two figures standing at the end of the hallway, one taller than the other—both strangers. The conversation came to a grinding halt at the sound of the hinges creaking, and their eyes were on him in an instant. Both looked extremely shocked to see him up on his feet.</p><p>“Well look who decided to join us in the world of the living.” The one who spoke first bore a weathered, wrinkly face, and he was quick to make his way towards the amnesiac man. “Here, come and take a seat. While I’m glad you’re on your feet, I want you to take it easy.”</p><p>“Should I come back another time then, doc?” The other jerked her thumb towards the front door.</p><p>“Yes, that’s probably best. Come on back this evening and I should have my list together then.”</p><p>The doc carefully led the man towards a chair in another room and sat him down in it. A thousand questions flooded his mind. But where to begin?</p><p>“What happened?” He finally asked. As good a place as any.</p><p>“You took a bullet to the head.”</p><p>So it hadn’t been a nightmare. That just raised more questions, like—</p><p>“How am I even alive?”</p><p>“That’s what I’d like to know. You’ll have to tell me your secret once you figure it out.” The doc pulled up a chair on wheels and sat down in front of him with a bag in hand. “By all rights, you should be dead. The fact that you’re up on your feet, and talking, is nothing short of miraculous.”</p><p>He dug around inside and pulled out various medical instruments, with which he began to check all of the man’s vitals. “My name is Doc Mitchell, by the by. Can you tell me yours?”</p><p>“… I don’t… remember.”</p><p>“Not unexpected, I suppose.”</p><p>“Do you know who I am?”</p><p>“Afraid not. You aren’t from around these parts as far as I know. We found you in a grave up in the local cemetary. Well,” the doc tugged the stethoscope from his ears and draped it around his neck, “I say we, but it was really ol’ Victor.”</p><p>“Did he know me?”</p><p>“Don’t rightly think so.” He patted the man’s shoulder. “Didn’t find anything to identify you in your personal effects either… ‘cept for a note, but I don’t think it’ll help much.”</p><p>“Could I see it?”</p><p>With a push, the doc rolled over to the nearby desk and picked up a piece of paper lying by a ham radio. He returned to the man and handed it to him. It was fragile, practically falling apart in his fingers.</p>
<h1>Instructions for Courier Six</h1><p>
  <em>Deliver the package at the north entrance to the Vegas Strip, by way of Freeside. An agent of the recipient will meet you at the checkpoint, take possession of the package, and pay for the delivery. Bring the payment to Johnson Nash at the Mojave Express Delivery agency in Primm. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Bonus on completion: 250 caps. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>MANIFEST</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This package contains: </em>
</p><p>
  <em>One (1) oversized poker chip, composed of platinum</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>CONTRACT PENALTIES</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You are an authorized agent of the Mojave Express Package until delivery is complete and payment has been processed, contractually obligated to complete this transaction and materially responsible for any malfeasance or loss. Failure to deliver the proper recipient may result in foreiture of your advance and bonus, criminal charges, and/or pursuit by mercenary reclamation teams. The Mojave Express is not responsible for any injury or loss of life you experience as a result of said reclamation efforts. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>His head swam as the words all filtered into his brain. It was a lot to take in all at once, and he read each part several times to make sure he fully understood them—it didn’t help.</p><p>“If only it had your name on it, eh?” Doc gave him an apologetic smile. “I tried radioing into Primm to ask about it myself, but I couldn’t get ahold of anyone. Still, it won’t do to just keep referrin’ to you as the fella that got shot, so is there a name you’d like us to call you in the meanwhile?”</p><p>“… Courier Six sounds like a name. I like that.”</p><p>Doc’s brow raised. The cognitive damage was worse than he’d thought. “… If that’s what you want. How about just Six?”</p><p>Six nodded. It would do for now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Careful round these parts. The geckos like to make their burrows in these rocks. They’ll come chargin’ out real quick like if you ain’t careful.”</p><p>With a grunt, the young woman from before and Six hopped down from a ledge of dusty red rock with rifles in hand. Sure enough, the second their feet touched the dirt, the geckos came charging out from their dens with teeth bared. They came up to Six’s knees and moved deceptively quick, making getting shots off tricky—even more so with the woman’s pet hound rushing into the fray.</p><p>“You sure you don’t remember being a farmhand or somethin’ before?” She asked, watching as Six popped a cap in the ones rushing them.</p><p>Six shook his head as the rest scurried back into their dens, pushing a stray lock of thin black hair out of his eyes as he did so. Being that it was over a month since he’d been at the business end of that gun, his hair had grown back in, save for the spot on the left side of his skull where the bullet had come out. “Why do you ask, uh…”</p><p>His voice trailed off. “… Sorry, I forgot again.”</p><p>“Sunny.” She smiled patiently. Sunny Smiles—the last name on account of that friendly grin. “I just have a hard time believin’ that you ain’t handled a gun before, that’s all.”</p><p>“Well…” Six looked to the worn rifle in his hands. “Maybe I’m just a quick learner.”</p><p>“Most folk take more’n a week to learn how to shoot like that.” She gestured for him to follow her and led him along the narrow trail to their left. The hound gave a <em>bow-woof</em> that made Six jump a full foot and shoved past her with nose to the dirt. “Cheyenne, god damnit—” she grabbed the dog by the collar, “<em>heel</em>.”</p><p>“Um… why are we out here again?”</p><p>“We’re trimmin’ the gecko population.” Sunny crouched down beside a hole and peered inside. “’Round this time of year they get real aggressive with their huntin’, on account of them gettin’ ready to hibernate.”</p><p>“Ohhh, right. I remember now. And we’re skinning them and taking the meat back for Miss… Miss, er… h-hang on, it’s on the tip of my tongue--”</p><p>“Trudy?”</p><p>He sighed. “Yeah, that one. The one who runs the saloon."</p><p>It was an endless source of frustrating, this constant forgetfulness. It didn’t matter what it was, there was a fifty percent chance that he had forgotten it at least once in the last seven days. How Sunny and Doc Mitchell could be so patient with him, he didn’t understand, but he was grateful all the same.</p><p>“… D’you think that… what’s-his-name, Mr…” He snapped his fingers several times. “… Chet! D’you think Mr. Chet would want the hides to sell at the store?”</p><p>“I’m not rightly sure. Geckos are so common ‘round these parts that their hides ain’t worth much more’n a cap or two. But it wouldn’t hurt to try, so long as you’re the one carryin’ ‘em.”</p><p>“And what about their organs? Surely there’s a use for those, too.”</p><p>“Oh I’m sure there is. Just we don’t really have one for ‘em here. Could ask Doc Mitchell.”</p><p>With another booming bark that just about sent Six flying out of his own skin, Cheyenne was off, a brown blur in the distance as several larger geckos made their presence known.</p><p>“CHEYENNE! For pete’s sake! Sorry Six, I know her barkin’ scares you. She just hates them geckos with a passion.”</p><p>“I-I-It’s okay.” Six forced himself to breathe as he followed behind her. Cheyenne wasn’t a bad dog, he’d learned that much already—just, she was so big and strong, and that bark was so loud it made his ears hurt. It had taken him this long to be comfortable enough to be around her. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The saloon saw most of its business in the evenings, with the busiest it got usually only being the patrons of Goodsprings and maybe the odd traveler. The quiet atmosphere was perfect for enjoying a good hearty homestead meal, or in Six’s case, fixing Trudy’s old radio in exchange for such a meal.</p><p>It was strange. He didn’t have the faintest idea of what he was doing, but it felt like his hands did. Disassembling the thing was an easy matter, and poking around with the wiring and circuit boards was fascinating.</p><p>“Never would have pegged you for a handyman.” Trudy watched him fiddle around with the radio’s internals as she wiped down the dusty bar glasses.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s… weird.” Six nudged a few wires aside; there was a sizeable splotch of corrosion on the main circuit board. “Just feels like I’ve done this before.”</p><p>“You probably have, then.” Curious, she leaned over the counter and craned her neck to take a peek. She might as well as have been trying to read latin. “Well? Do you think it’s fixable?”</p><p>“I think… no, I’m sure it can be. D’you have any distilled liquor? And a lighter?”</p><p>“… You’re not trying to torch my radio, are you?”</p><p>Six shook his head. “Nono. The liquor’s gonna help clean the corrosion away, and then the lighter’ll help me melt some scrap down to bridge any broken traces…”</p><p>His voice trailed off. He’d… definitely done a repair like this before. No, he’d watched someone else do it. He could remember hearing that same explanation. But as he strained to recall who had said it, his head gave a painful throb, making him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. They were there in his mind’s eye, a blurry silhouette against the dark. Out of reach.</p><p>“Right. Well, I’ll just pretend like I know what you’re talking about.” Trudy slid a shot glass of liquor and her personal lighter over to him. “… Everything alright there, kiddo? You look awful pale.”</p><p>“Just a headache. Again.” The pain ebbed almost as soon as it came. Carefully he took the affected board out and applied the fix, mindful to make sure the alcohol had evaporated before going anywhere near it with a flame.</p><p>A minute later, the quiet room was filled with classical music. The sound filled Six with an immense sense of pride and accomplishment, even if the task itself had been so minor.</p><p>“What do you know.” Trudy was more than a little pleased as she set a small satchel of caps and a plate of dinner in front of him. “Thanks, hon.”</p><p>“You’re welcome, Ms. Trudy.”</p><p>It was nice to be a help for once, instead of the constant burden he’d been as of late. He didn’t even forget her name.</p><p>There wasn’t a chance for him to dig into his meal before the saloon door swung open with no small amount of force.</p><p>“Where is he?”</p><p>It was an unfamiliar voice, and hostile to boot. For whatever reason, the question brought Six’s courier instructions to mind. Was this someone sent by the Mojave Express people?</p><p><em>‘Did they find out I’m alive and come after me for losing that package?’</em> He thought, in an absolute panic. <em>‘I don’t have the money to pay for it. What are they gonna do to me? Rough me up and leave me for the vultures? String me up in the middle of a town so people can throw rotten food at me? Make me work as a slave to pay it off? What if they try to kill me too?! I can’t die yet, I haven’t remembered anything!’ </em></p><p>“Oh, it’s you.” Trudy sighed and turned to the man who’d interrupted the moment as Six dove for cover around the end of the bar. “I was hoping that you’d have given up by now.”</p><p>“I warned all of you that I wouldn’t until you gave him up. Now. Tell me where Ringo is before I decide to start roughing up your customers.”</p><p>Six peeked around the bar to the man. Irate didn’t do him justice; he was positively fuming, the red on his face extending down his neck and well into the collar of the NCRCF uniform it was tucked into. It didn’t seem like he was here for him, at least; but who was this Ringo person?</p><p>“I’m afraid I haven’t the foggiest, Joe. Haven’t seen him around in a good week or so; maybe he’s up and skipped town.”</p><p>“You and I both know that’s a load of bullshit. My patience is wearin’ real thin. If you folks know what’s good for you, you’ll cough him up the next time I come back.”</p><p>“And if we don’t?”</p><p>“My boys will turn this place into a proper ghost town.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m right terrified.”</p><p>Joe jabbed a threatening finger in her direction. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving the door wide open.</p><p>With a sigh Trudy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Son of a bitch just about broke my door… Don’t worry sweetie, he wasn’t here for you.”</p><p>“Who’s Ringo?” Six crawled out from his hiding spot, wringing his hands anxiously as he looked towards the door too. “And what does he want with him?”</p><p>“Ringo’s a trader for a company called the Crimson Caravan. Showed up here in town about a week before that robot dug you up out of your grave, claimin’ his caravan had been attacked on the I-15 and askin’ us to hide him from the people who did it. As for what Joe wants with him, well, I’m guessin’ he either intends to finish the job or hold Ringo for ransom from the Crimson Caravan.”</p><p>Six gingerly sat back down at the bar. “Is Ringo here?” He kept his voice low, in case the man was still outside listening.</p><p>“Mhm. He’s holed up in the ol’ gas station. Poor thing’s scared to death of comin’ out cos of Joe.” Trudy turned to the stove and plated up another serving. “This here’s for him. You wouldn’t happen to want to bring it to him for me while I fix the door, would you? I’ll toss you a few more caps for the trouble.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble. You don’t need to pay me for that.” Feeling put off from his meal, Six promptly slid back off of the barstool. “The gas station is just past Doc Mitchell’s house, right?”</p><p>“Yes sir. Make sure you announce who you are and tell him that I sent you, and like as not he’ll let you in. I appreciate it.”</p><p>Trudy wrapped the meal up in a thin cloth and passed it to Six, who took it in his hands and headed out through the open door.</p><p>
  <em>‘It’s evening, so Doc Mitchell’s house is… this way.’</em>
</p><p>Goodsprings was by no means a large town, but that didn’t stop Six from forgetting the layout. The position of the sun in the sky helped him to keep his bearings when that happened.</p><p>Past the doctor’s house he went, striding by the window that looked into the room he was staying in. Since he was technically still regaining his strength, the good doctor was letting him stay there for the time being. Six hoped that he would be cleared to leave soon, though; the quicker he did, the quicker he could find out who he was.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The gas station was almost completely boarded up, and Six had to look around for a moment before he spotted where the door was.<br/>“Um… Knock knock. Mr. Ringo?” He lightly rapped his knuckles against it and took a step back. “We’ve never met before, but Ms. Trudy sent some supper for you.”<br/>He stopped and listened; he could hear the faintest of movement from inside the station. Ringo was probably right up against the other side of the door, listening just like he was.<br/>“I’m not with that, er… that guy in the blue shirt. Whatever his name was.”<br/>The door creaked open, just enough for Ringo’s face to appear through the gap it made—along with the muzzle of a pistol. “Put the food down and walk away.”<br/>“Wh-whoa—” The sight of the gun brought back bad memories, and Six hastily took several steps back. “I’m not a threat, I swear!”<br/>“Yeah? Then why did you bring the food and not Trudy?”<br/>The trauma of the memories made Six’s words all jumble together. “B-BecauseIthoughtyoumightbescaredandlonelyandwantafriendpleasedon’tshootme.”<br/>Ringo stared him down for a long minute. The sheer panic on Six’s face must have convinced him, because he slowly lowered the gun and opened the door a bit more. “I don’t need any friends, I need that madman off my tail.” He paused. “… Thanks. Can I have my food now?”<br/>“Yeahsure.” Six held the plate out as far as he could, not willing to get any closer to the weapon even though it wasn’t pointed at him anymore. His eyes were squeezed shut, as though he were expecting to be shot anyway.<br/>“Relax, I’m not—look, I’m putting the gun away.” It almost sounded like there was some guilt in Ringo’s voice as he tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans. “… You’re Six, right?”<br/>“H-Huh?” Six peeked one eye open. “How do you know my name?”<br/>“Trudy… might’ve mentioned you a couple of times. Sorry for threatening you like that; I just don’t know who to trust here. But you don’t seem like the kind of guy who’d rat me out to Cobb, so… I reckon I can at least trust you for the moment.” His stomach growled loudly. “… So, yeah. Food, please.”<br/>With only slight hesitation Six stepped close enough to hand the food over. “If… if you’re that scared of this guy, how come you haven’t asked for help besides this?”<br/>“I can’t just ask a bunch of strangers to stick their necks out for me, not anymore than I already have.”<br/>“So… you’re just going to hide out here forever, then? Cos I don’t think that guy’s gonna give up.”<br/>Frustration lit up Ringo’s face. “Yeah, I know! It’s not like I plan on stickin’ around forever. I’ll get out of here in a few days. Sneak out in the night.”<br/>“Why in a few days? Why not tonight?”<br/>“Because… that’s none of your business.”<br/>“I’m just trying to understand the situation, Mr. Ringo. I wanna help.”<br/>Ringo scoffed. “That so? What could a twig like you do to help? You gonna go and wipe Cobb and his men up for me?”<br/>“Maybe. Maybe I can talk them into leaving you alone.”<br/>“Okay yeah, sure bud. You wanna try hugging it out, be my guest. They’re holed up in the old NCR Correctional Facility, but don’t come cryin’ to me when—”<br/>Abruptly Six took off, leaving Ringo’s sentence unfinished. “Whu—h-hey, I was just kidding! Kid, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”<br/>But the warning went unheeded as Six booked it back towards the saloon to ask for directions. As intimidating as Cobb had been to him, Six was eager to be of use around town, and talking the man was going to be the first step towards that.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A loud belch echoed through the still evening air. Just a short ways down the I-15 stood a ramshackle RV, which a gaggle of escapees from the nearby NCR Correctional Facility called home. They’d come to name themselves the powder gangers, a play on ‘chain gang’ and their penchant for explosives of all kinds.</p><p>“How much longer’re we gonna wait?”</p><p>Several empty beer and whiskey bottles littered the ground around the RV. The two on nightwatch had set up in old lawn chairs and were helping themselves to some of their booze supply.</p><p>Another loud belch, and another bottle cap popped off. “Fuck if I know, man.” Three bottles had slurred the ganger’s speech. “Not much longer m’thinkin’. Joe’s getting’ reeeaaal fed up. Y’see how he laid into Carl earlier? Almost took his ear off.”</p><p>“Fuckin’ assholes in Goodsprings. What’re they even playin’ at? Ain’t got no reason to hide that caravan guy…”</p><p>A finger lightly tapped the one on the left’s shoulder. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’m sort of lost. You wouldn’t happen to know where to find the, uh… correctional facility, would you?”</p><p>The two twisted around in their chairs and focused bleary eyes on the young man who’d managed to sneak up to them. If not for the alcohol dulling their wits and obscuring their judgment, they would have shot him on sight.</p><p>“… Yeah. S’bout half a mile thataway.”</p><p>They both pointed with beer bottles in hand.</p><p>“Perfect. Thanks so much.”</p><p>“Uh, sure. No problem.”</p><p>Confused, they both watched the stranger traipse down the busted up interstate.</p><p>“… Who the fuck was that?”</p><p>“Fuck man, I thought you knew him.”</p><p>“Hell no I don’t know him. Never seen him before in my life.”</p><p>“Shit… let’s just pretend we never saw him.”</p><p>“Never saw who?”</p><p>“That guy who we just…. Oh. I see what you’re doin’.”</p><p>They clinked their half-empty bottles and picked up where they left off. There was still a lot to get through before the next shift started.</p><p> </p><p>###</p><p> </p><p>Just as the men had said, the correctional facility compound lay just a half-mile away. Six followed the side road leading towards its entrance, awed slightly by its sheer size and expanse. It must have housed plenty of federal prisoners before the Great War.</p><p><em>‘Great War… where have I heard about that before?’</em> His head throbbed; better that he didn’t try and think about that right now.</p><p>He could faintly make out people stationed in each of the guard towers, and felt their eyes on him as he approached the front gate. Another guard stood in wait there, with a mean looking assault rifle in his hands. Six could feel his palms turn clammy; he did his best not to look at the weapon.</p><p>“Stop right there,” the guard demanded, raising the gun and stopping Six dead in his tracks. “What the fuck do you want?”</p><p>“D-Don’tshootplease.” Six quickly held up his hands to show he was unarmed. “IwashopingtospeaktoMr.Joeishehere?”</p><p>“Whu… slow the hell down. Can’t understand none of what you’re saying.”</p><p>Six tried to swallow around the thick lump in his throat. “I was—hoping to speak to Mr., er… M-Mr…”</p><p>His brain went blank. <em>‘C’mon, think, think! You just said it!’</em></p><p>“Think you’re bein’ funny or something?” The guard strode towards him, towering a foot and a half over the quivering courier. “Spit it out before I lose my patience.”</p><p>“I, I-I-I—” Squeezing his eyes shut tight, Six blurted out the one thing he could think of. “Y-Your boss! I would like to speak with your boss please!”</p><p>“You would, would you?” The guard walked a circle around him, sizing him up. “You with the NCR? You a spy?”</p><p>“N-No, I’m—I swear, I don’t even know who the NCR are!”</p><p>“Yeah, like I believe that shit.”</p><p>The radio on the man’s shoulder crackled. “Dawes, what’s going on out there?”</p><p>“Got some rando out here askin’ to speak with you, boss. Was just about to send him on his way.”</p><p>“Who is he? Hang on, is he one of those assholes from Goodsprings?”</p><p>“Hang on, I’ll ask. Hey pint-sized, you one of those assholes from--?”</p><p>“Y-Yes, yes I am!”</p><p>“He said yes.”</p><p>“Bring him through.”</p><p>“Wh… alright, if you say so.” Dawes stepped behind Six and slapped a pair of cuffs onto his skinny wrists. “Looks like you’re getting your wish, pint-sized.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Into the compound they marched, right through the front door of the building itself and into the main canteen area where the Gangers had set up shop. The man from Goodsprings, Joe Cobbs, stood waiting as Dawes marched Six past his sneering underlings.</p><p>“Oh, I remember seein’ you.” Cobbs too eyed Six as he came to stand before him. “You were the one who hid when I dropped by earlier.”</p><p>“You saw me?”</p><p>“Of fucking course I did, genius. Was kinda hard to miss you diving for cover like that. So what, did those assholes send you here to talk?”</p><p>Six shook his head. “I came here on my own.”</p><p>“That so? Why? You wantin’ to join us or somethin’?”</p><p>“What would it take for you to leave Ringo and Goodsprings alone?”</p><p>The general chatter in the background died down as Cobb stared at him.</p><p>“Are you fuckin’ with me? That little pussy bitch put you up to this, did he? Too chicken shit to show his face?”</p><p>“I told you, I came here on my own. I was hoping that we could work things out peacefully.”</p><p>Cobb’s eye began to twitch. “Peacefully? Do you have any idea who we even are, kid?”</p><p>“Er… respectfully, I don’t. Even if I did, I’d have forgotten.”</p><p>“We’re the <em>Powder Gangers</em>. This prison we’re in? The NCR used to be in charge here, and we used to be prisoners. Now we’re the wardens, and we’re lookin’ to turn the whole Mojave into our playground. We don’t <em>do</em> peaceful, and even if we did, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be just because some snot-nosed brat asked us nicely.”</p><p>“Well, what would it take then?”</p><p>“What do you think? Cold hard caps for one.”</p><p>“If you agree to stop harassing Ringo and Goodsprings, you can have all of the ones I have on me.”</p><p>Cobb raised a brow, then gave a curt nod to Dawes, who began to root around in Six’s pockets. The search produced the small satchel that Trudy had given him, plus the handful he’d earned lending a hand around town so far. In all, it amounted to less than 200.</p><p>“You seriously think that 200 caps would convince us to quit?”</p><p>“Maybe?” Six looked at him innocently. “I don’t remember if that’s a lot or not.”</p><p>For a full five seconds, the entire room was silent. Then, all at once they all burst into raucous, mocking laughter, as though his naivety was genuinely the funniest thing they’d ever heard. </p><p>“Bitch, that’s not even enough for a good time with the hookers on the strip!” Cobb was nearly in tears. “I’ve genuinely never met someone as stupid as you! Do you have a bullet in your brain or something?!”</p><p>“Not anymore, I don’t.”</p><p>“Ahhh… you know, you’ve got guts, and I can almost respect you for that.” Wiping his eyes with one hand, Cobb used the other to draw his pistol. “It’s too bad that your buddies got me pissed off. If I was in a better mood, I might’ve let you live.”</p><p>Six’s silver eyes went wide as the pistol was aimed at his head. Flashbacks flickered across his vision, obscuring and melting with what he was seeing right now.</p><p>Yet Cobb didn’t even have a chance to touch the trigger before a voice spoke up from the corner.</p><p>“Maybe you oughta keep the kid alive.”</p><p>Cobb glanced back, his own eyes settling on the handcuffed man sitting on the floor behind him. “Oh? And why the fuck should I do that?”</p><p>The man gave a shrug of his shoulders. “Might be that you could organize an exchange—the kid for Ringo. Or barring that, you could use him to squeeze some caps out of the Goodspring folks. Just seems like a mighty waste to get rid of him.”</p><p>“… Hmph.” Cobb holstered his gun and turned back to look at Six and Dawes. “Take ‘em both to the holding cells. We’ll bring the brat with us when we go to lay waste to the town tomorrow.”</p><p>“You sure, boss?”</p><p>Cobb’s eye twitched again. “Don’t test me, Dawes, or it’ll be <em>your</em> head I put a bullet in.”</p><p>“Y-Yessir.” Dawes grabbed hold of Six’s arm and gave him a rough jerk. “Get walkin’. You too Meyers.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door of the holding cell slammed shut, and Dawes walked away, leaving the pair still cuffed and sitting on the cold hard floor in the darkened cell.</p><p>“… So why did you speak up for me?”</p><p>Curiosity compelled Six to break the silence. He squinted through the dark to his right where Meyers sat, his eyes adjusting to the low lighting—he found himself mildly envious of the man’s wide-brimmed hat.</p><p> “Why indeed.” Meyers gave a half-laugh and a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. “Honestly, I haven’t the foggiest. Just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.”</p><p>“So… it wasn’t because you know me?”</p><p>Glancing to his fellow prisoner, Meyers saw the young man’s shoulders slump. “Afraid not. I’m sure I’ve never seen you before in my life.”</p><p>“Damn…” Six gave a heavy sigh.</p><p>“That true then, what you said back there? That someone shot you in the noggin?”</p><p>“I mean, that’s what I’ve been told. And I’ve got the scars that kind of prove it. But I don’t really remember it happening.” He added quietly, “I don’t really remember much of anything anymore.”</p><p>“I’d imagine. Seems like a bullet to the brain would do that.” Meyers shifted to sit cross-legged where it was more comfortable. “Nothin’ to do but wait until morning. Chances are he’ll haul you off to that Goodsprings town and barter for your release. And then promptly kill everyone once the caps are in his hand.”</p><p>Meyers had gone into a bit of a monologue, to which Six was only half listening, too busy jostling the cuffs binding his wrists. They were looser than he’d first thought, and with a bit of squeezing he was able to slip one wrist out.</p><p>“Huh.” He pulled his hands around to his front and looked at them in surprise. “That was easy.”</p><p>“…honestly, you’d be better off askin’ for mercy before he takes you outta here. It ain’t exactly honorable, but ain’t no honor or pride in dying like a rabid mutt—”</p><p>His escape had gone completely unnoticed by Meyers. Recalling the spare bobby pins that Sunny had given him the other day, Six tugged one from his pocket and scooted back behind the man to fiddle with his cuffs.</p><p>            A million thoughts all were running through his head as he tried to nudge the tumblers into place, an act made all the more difficult by the low lighting in the cell.</p><p>
  <em>‘So peace isn’t an option anymore, not unless I can magically come up with a few hundred more caps. Or maybe a few thousand.’</em>
</p><p>The pin broke, and he froze as he heard footsteps approaching. Hastily he scooted back to his spot and crossed his wrists behind his back, just before a guard strode by the cell. That was close. And Meyers was… still talking. Back to work.</p><p>
  <em>‘Maybe we can find some weapons and scare him into standing down. That might work. And this is a prison, there’s bound to be some kind of confiscated weapons cache here somewhere… right? That’s definitely a thing that I remembered prisons have. I hope.’</em>
</p><p>With tongue poking between his teeth, he gave the pin a little push—and the cuffs loosened, falling right off of Meyers’ wrists and onto his hands. It was lucky that they did; the sound of metal on cement floor would have alerted the guards.</p><p>“Sweet!” Six couldn’t help but do a little enthused wiggle at his success.</p><p>Finally Meyers seemed to notice what was going on; mildly confused, he looked back to the courier, then brought his hands around to his front to look at his cuffless wrists.</p><p>“… What the devil are you doing?” He asked in a low voice. He didn’t sound nearly as excited as Six was.</p><p>“Getting us out of here.” Six inched closer to the cell door and listened intently. “… Okay, the coast is clear. I’ve got one bobby pin left to pick the door with. If we sneak out, we can try and find some guns somewhere and then we can use ‘em to convince Cobb to let us go and leave Goodsprings alone.”</p><p>“Boy, that bullet really did leave you dumb.” Meyers rubbed his face. “What makes you think that I want any part in an escape? And even if I did, what chance would the two of us have against all of the gangers here?”</p><p>Six looked back at him, confused. “Why <em>wouldn’t</em> you want out? Isn’t Cobb holding you hostage, too?”</p><p>“No, he ain’t. I’m stayin’ here of my own volition.”</p><p>“<em>Why</em>?!”</p><p>“Because I was sent here for a reason, and I intend to finish servin’ my sentence like a law-abidin’ ex-sheriff should.”</p><p>“… Oh.” Once more Six’s shoulders slumped, almost like he had deflated. “Sorry, I thought… Nevermind, no I didn’t. I didn’t <em>thought</em> at all. Sorry.”</p><p>“… That bein’ said, I don’t got no scruples against helpin’ <em>you</em> out of here.” With a jerk of his head, Meyers gestured for Six to come back towards him. “Put my cuffs back on me and I’ll ask the guards to take me to the bathroom. While they’re busy escortin’ me, you head to the right and take the first door on the left. Should be the supply closet that the gangers busted a hole in the wall and escaped through.  And there oughta be a little gap in the fence not far from there.”</p><p>“Okay… okay, but…” Six hesitated. “What do I do after I get out?”</p><p>“My advice? Follow the I-15 south until you reach Primm. There’s an NCR outpost set up there that might be able to retake this place now that most of the gangers up and left. Just look for the big ol’ wooden coaster, you can’t miss it.”</p><p>“I mean, it’s me we’re talking about here… Mr. Meyers, are you sure about this?”</p><p>“Sure as I’ve ever been. Like I said, I don’t have any intention on leavin’ before my sentence is served. Now get those cuffs back on me.”  </p><p>Still filled with unease, Six reluctantly snapped the cuffs back onto Meyers wrists and once again sat beside him. It didn’t feel right leaving him behind like this, but…</p><p>Meyers loudly cleared his throat. “Hey fellas, mind helpin’ me to the bathroom right quick? Might wanna hurry; think that casserole your chef cooked up was bad.”</p><p>“Ugh, don’t go shittin’ yourself old man. I’m comin’.”</p><p>The same guard from before came trudging back towards the cell, unlocking the door with one of the many keys jingling on his key ring. “I’d watch what you say to Jimmy. He’s real sensitive about his cooking.”</p><p>“That so? Maybe someone oughta source him better quality ingredients then. Might make the slop he cooks tolerable.”</p><p>Meyers’ chatter was calculated, a move to keep the guard focused on him and not on Six. He let himself be pulled gruffly to his feet and dragged out of the cell, which snapped shut behind them.</p><p>Six held his breath and waited until their footsteps faded before crawling towards the door and retrieving another bobby pin. The lock was a bit easier than the cuffs had been, perhaps because he’d worked out how to work the tumblers now.</p><p>With a faint click, it unlocked; he slid it open just enough to squeeze through the gap and followed the hallway to the right, through the first door on the left, and then through the hole carved through the wall. There was a small gap in the fence, just as Meyers had said, and he crawled through it, booking it down the highway towards the rollercoaster way in the distance.</p><p>He had to move quickly. Morning was less than twelve hours away.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Gotta get to Primm… gotta get to Primm… gotta get to Primm…!”</p><p>The mantra was repeated over and over, growing more and more breathless as Six bolted down the empty stretch of I-15. There was no time to waste.</p><p>“Gotta get to Primm… gotta get… to… to…”</p><p>His feet slowly come to a stop, and he looked around in confusion.</p><p>“… Why am I running?”</p><p>The urgency was still there; he knew he had to hurry, but… why? What was so important that it had him running through the night?</p><p>“C’mon… c’mon, <em>think</em>…!”</p><p>In frustration, he brought his hand up to his mouth and bit down on the tip of his thumb. It was right there on the tip of his tongue.</p><p>
  <em>Skitter-skitter. </em>
</p><p>Something skittered towards him, though it was too dark to see anything. The noise was unsettling, disturbing, disconcerting; he twisted around in both directions, squinting to try and make out what might be making it.</p><p>Movement out of the corner of his eye. The moonlight shining down caught on the scales of the dog-sized geckos coming towards him, running with only their hind legs and their mouths wide open.</p><p>With a frightened yelp Six quickly backpedaled away from them, his hands moving to grab for his rifle—but it wasn’t on his back like it should have been. He’d left it behind, back in—</p><p>“Goodsprings!”</p><p>The word was gasped out as it smacked him in the face like a gust of wintry wind. That’s right, he had to get to Primm and ask the NCR for help protecting Goodsprings.</p><p>He glanced South, to the faint outline of the wooden coaster encircling part of the town. With the geckos still giving chase, he broke into a sprint once more.</p><p>But he was ill-suited for travel at night, and his maladjusted eyes couldn’t make out all of the dips and upturned chunks of asphalt before him.</p><p>His foot caught on the edge of one. Unceremoniously he faceplanted onto the cold road surface—and before he even had a chance to reel from the fall, he felt the geckos’ needle-like teeth digging into his limbs.</p><p>It hurt. It hurt almost as much as getting shot did. His hand rested on a rock, and with gritted teeth he gripped it and smashed it into one of the geckos heads. A sickening smack preceded the loosening of its jaw on his leg. Twisting around, he delivered a similar blow to the other, feeling slightly bad as their bodies flopped to the side and convulsed from their shattered skulls.</p><p>But more than that he felt sick to his stomach. The geckos venom was coursing through his body already, and his vision started going double as he pushed himself to stand again. The lights in the distance blurred and warped, yet still he kept his eyes set on them and the roller coaster.</p><p>“Gotta get to Primm. Gotta get to Primm…”</p><p>Every step he took made it worse, pumping the potent venom further through him. His bleeding limbs were going numb. He could barely feel his fingers and toes. </p><p>And still he walked. He walked until his knees gave out, crawling on all fours as swiftly as he could. And when his legs became dead weights and refused to move, he dragged himself on the asphalt with his arms.</p><p>“Gotta… get to… Primm…”</p><p>Over and over he repeated it. He wouldn’t forget this time. Even when his strength left him and he could do nothing but lie prone on the ground, he repeated it.</p><p>Even as the world went dark, with the howls of the coyotes in the distance. He refused to forget again.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was like déjà vu. Waking up to find himself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling, trying to remember what had brought him there.</p><p>“… Goodsprings...!”</p><p>Once more the town’s name screeched back into memory, and he bolted upright, eyes wide in panic.</p><p>That’s right, he was on his way to Primm when he was waylaid by geckos. He looked down at himself; his limbs were all bandaged up, and his shirtless chest bore a bandage where antivenom had been injected to counteract their venom. But that just begged the questions of where he was, and how he got there.</p><p>“We have <em>got</em> to stop meetin’ like this, pardner.”</p><p>Victor’s familiar voice made Six jump an inch off of the cot he was laying on. He hadn’t even noticed the Securitron standing watch over in the corner of the room. And for the briefest of moments, he rejoiced in the fact that he remembered the man—robot.</p><p>“You scared me… what are you doing here? And where even is here?”</p><p>“Well, this here is Primm. Reckon that’s where you were runnin’ off to in such a hurry. I had a feelin’ you were in a pickle, and what do ya know, I was right.”</p><p>So Victor had once again come to his rescue. “Thanks… I’m sorry you have to keep saving me like this.”</p><p>“No point in bein’ sorry when it’s all said and done already. Just might wanna consider what consequences your actions might have on the folks who care about you from now on, yeah?”</p><p>There was an almost warm quality to Victor’s synthesized cowboy voice. Guilt pooled in Six’s stomach. He did run off without saying a word to anyone but Ringo.</p><p>“What was it that made you up and come to Primm anyway, pardner?”</p><p>“…Oh!” The guilt turned into panic and urgency. “T-that’s right! I came here to ask for help! Cobb is going to attack Goodsprings in the morning and—”</p><p>All of the color drained from his face. Morning. “H-How long have I been out?!”</p><p>“Whoa, easy there bucko. You were only out for an hour or so, and I don’t think you’d been for more’n a few minutes before I found you.”</p><p>Six breathed a huge sigh of relief. There was still time, but none to waste. “Do you know where the NCR is around here?”</p><p>“Can’t say as I do. But try askin’ one of the townsfolk holed up in here. They probably know what direction to point you in. Seein’ as you’re on the mend, I’ll be takin’ my leave now.”</p><p>“… You’re not going to help? Isn’t Goodsprings your home too?”</p><p>Victor stopped halfway towards the door and turned on his wheel so his screen was facing Six again. “Now where did I say that I wasn’t goin’ to help? Someone’s gotta warn the folks back home what’s comin’ for ‘em.”</p><p>“… Oh. That makes sense.” Six felt quite silly.</p><p>“Don’t go thinkin’ you gotta try and handle everything yourself. There’s nothin’ wrong with lettin’ other folks share the burden.”</p><p>With a hand raised in farewell, Victor let himself out, leaving Six alone with his thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>‘Sure feels like that’s all I ever do…’</em>
</p><p>Six swung his legs over the edge of the cot and carefully stood. The sense of déjà vu only intensified. At least this time he didn’t have to regrow all of his hair.</p><p>Self-consciously he touched the round scar on his forehead, and the thin one on the left side of his head. That one still hadn’t had any hair regrow around it. He doubted that it ever would.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(at this point the Goodsprings crisis has been averted. Six’s luck and abundant charismatic innocence allowed him to assist in freeing Primm from their own Powder Ganger woes and enlist the help of the NCR in stopping Cobb and his goons. An agreement was arranged between the two towns to open up trade and act as neighbors who watch over one another. Six’s unusual skill with electronics repair also enabled him to repair the eyebot E-DE. It is currently two days after the Gangers’ defeat in Goodsprings.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Still nursing the gecko wounds, as well as the scrapes and cuts from the fight, Six packed up what little belongings he had to his name. It was time to actually leave Goodsprings—he’d finally gotten that clearance from Doc Mitchell, although it was more of a formality than anything else at that point.</p><p>“Headin’ out already, are you?”</p><p>Doc Mitchell stood in the doorway to his room, leaned against the frame with a faint smile on his weathered face.</p><p>“Y’know, nobody would complain if you decided to stick around long-term. Heck, I’d even go so far as to say we’d be glad for yer company.”</p><p>With a slight tug Six zipped up his bag around E-DE’s body and slung the strap over his shoulder. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to stay, but…”</p><p>“I know. Stayin’ here ain’t likely to help those memories of yours come back.” The doctor studied him quietly. “… Hard to believe that it wasn’t even two months ago that I was operatin’ on your noggin. None of us thought you’d make it. But we’re sure glad that you did. You be sure and stop by sometime, y’hear?”</p><p>“I will.” Ready as he ever was, Six strode over to the door and gave him a tight hug. “Of course I will. You’re all like family to me. Maybe even the only family I have, who knows.”</p><p>Doc Mitchell returned the hug. He wouldn’t say it, but having Six around was like having a son again. “You take care of yourself. And be sure to swing by and say good-bye to Trudy and the rest. They might take it personal if you forget.”</p><p>“I was planning on it just as soon as I got out the door. Thanks for everything, Dr. Mitchell.”</p><p>The hug relinquished, Six strode out of the room and then the house. His first stop was to Victor’s shack to say farewell to the robot, but there wasn’t any sign of him.</p><p>“Odd…”</p><p>A thorough look through the town turned up nothing as well, so he traipsed to the saloon in hopes of seeing him there. He wasn’t, but of course Trudy was, as well as Sunny and Chet. Ringo had set off the day prior.</p><p>Sunny looked up from her plate of bacon and eggs. “Aww, I guess this is the part where we gotta say good-bye huh?”</p><p>“Only for now. Not forever.”</p><p>She too got a hug, as did Trudy—Chet was more than happy with just a firm handshake.</p><p>“Any idea on where you’re gonna go?” Trudy slid a piece of buttered bread Six’s way. “Or do you just plan on goin’ in a direction and seeing where it takes you?”</p><p>“Well…”</p><p>The song on the radio came to an abrupt end. Static followed it, drawing their attention and confusion.</p><p>“I thought I fixed that thing.” With a balled fist Six lightly thumped the top of it. The oldest method of repair.</p><p>“Oh, that’s just the station I think. It cuts out a couple of times a day.” Trudy slid the radio just out of his reach with a faint smile. Her thumb lightly brushed up against the dial, turning it to a different station altogether.</p><p>
  <em>“—oooh Raul, Supreme Commander Tabitha says you die today. Any reaction?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m going to obey Supreme Tabitha, claro. Whatever she says. Just, I feel so bad I die before I fix her special robot.”</em>
</p><p> The first voice was unlike any that Six had heard before. It was gravelly to an unfathomable degree, and somehow both high <em>and</em> low pitched, with just a hint of insanity behind it. The second voice, bearing a heavy Hispanic accent dripping with light sarcasm, though…</p><p>“Raul… Tejada…? Why do I… know that name…?”</p><p>Sunny picked up a piece of egg with her fork. “That someone you know, kiddo?”</p><p>“I… think so…?”</p><p>A dull throbbing pain formed at the front of his skull. It pulsed with each beat of his heart, growing sharper with each one.</p><p>Then, without warning, the pain erupted and spread to every part of his brain. It felt like a grenade had gone off inside his skull, fully blinding him and sending him and his bread weak-kneed to the ground.</p><p>He <em>knew </em>this Raul. He was <em>so</em> close to remembering. The pain was easing up; his hearing was the first to return, going from tinny and distant to grainy, like a film grain effect over a movie but in his ears. It was enough to pick up the name <em>Black Mountain Radio</em> from the tail end of the broadcast, before the next song began to play.</p><p>“Black—Black Mountain.” His vision was coming back now. The pain was intense enough to leave him breathless. “Where is Black Mountain?”</p><p>Both women shared a brief glance. “… Up north, just past Sloan,” Trudy said hesitantly.</p><p>“But the whole area is crawlin’ with deathclaws from Quarry Junction.” Sunny helped Six back to his feet and brushed the dust from his knees. “I know that ain’t gonna stop you—”</p><p>“I don’t even know what a deathclaw is.”</p><p>“—and that’s why I’m givin’ you a heads up. Don’t try to fight ‘em. And <em>be careful</em>, alright?”</p><p>Six’s head bobbed in a quick nod. That was it for the farewell; he was out the door in a heartbeat, typing a reminder into the Pip-boy strapped to his left wrist.</p><p>Black Mountain. A piece of his forgotten past was waiting for him there.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A long, drawn out sigh blew past Raul’s lips as he leaned back in his chair. He knew he was going to pay dearly for that little jab at Tabitha earlier, but it had been worth it—for the most part. It wasn’t like being locked up in his room again was any different to how it usually was. <br/>Even through the concrete walls surrounding him, he could hear the nightkin outside making a real racket. Something about an intruder down at the base of the mountain or something. Sometimes it was more trouble than it was worth trying to understand them. <br/>“Wonder if it’s someone comin’ for me.” His fingers idly tugged at the thin moustache adorning his upper lip. “… Nah, couldn’t be. That’d be too good to be true.” <br/>Even if it was true, there was no way someone could get past all the Nightkin unless they had an army backing them. And even then, it was iffy; it was hard to hit a target you couldn’t see. </p><p>###</p><p>Sixty minutes passed. He’d moved from his chair to his bed at this point. The commotion outside had stopped. Now it was quiet; too quiet. At one point, he’d heard Tabitha’s voice booming out over the compound speakers, mocking the invader, but now… nothing. <br/>“The hell’s goin’ on out there, man?” <br/>If only his room had a window, he could peek out and see what was going on. Then again, if it did, Tabitha would have boarded it up—because he would have tried to escape out of it in a heartbeat. So, yeah, it didn’t really matter. Still sucked not to have one though. </p><p>###</p><p>Twenty more minutes, and he could faintly hear the gravel outside his door crunching with footsteps. It wasn’t Tabitha or a Nightkin, that was for sure; their footfalls were big and thumping and heavy enough to make the ground shake if they were angry. These ones were light and lithe. It sounded like they were fiddling with the console outside his door. <br/>“Don’t go getting your hopes up, Raul. Tabitha’s got that one locked up good and tight.” <br/>The footsteps faded, and he sighed again. No way some rando was going to unlock it. <br/>But then, after another minute, they returned. He could hear furious typing on the keyboard. It sounded like they were writing a whole damn subroutine from scratch. <br/>He closed his eyes, still refusing to get his hopes up. He didn’t have it in his pre-war heart to have them crushed again. <br/>And then, unceremoniously, the locks went ka-chunk. The door swung open.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Raul’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t quite believe what his eyes were telling him. The person standing in his doorway—this small person, their tiny frame bearing many cuts, scrapes and other wounds, the raven black hair on their head, those unforgettable silvery eyes staring back at him. Clad in a rag-tag assortment of clothes torn to tatters and stained with dirt and blood, this person—this man who he had all but given up hope of ever seeing again.</p><p>“Cosmo? Is it really you, boss?”</p><p><em>Cosmo</em>. The name stirred another fragmented memory in Six.</p><p>“I was right.” The sentence was uttered in breathlessness as he took a shaky step forward into the room. “You know me. <em>I</em> know <em>you</em>.”</p><p>With body creaking in protest, Raul shifted to stand on his feet. They propelled him across the nine by nine space to stand before Six—no, Cosmo—where he gently grabbed hold of the man’s upper arms and began to look him over.</p><p>“What—what happened to you, amigo? Where did you disappear to all this time? I thought you were dead!”</p><p>“Well, I—I almost was.”</p><p>Raul’s eyes weren’t as good as they used to be, but they were still sharp enough to catch sight of the bullet-shaped scar still fresh behind those unkempt bangs. The sight was enough to knock the wind from his lungs and turn his stomach.</p><p>“Someone shot you? In the head?”</p><p>Cosmo’s hair bobbed up and down with his head. “I can’t—I can’t remember hardly anything. But I heard your voice on the radio, and I just—I knew that I had to come and find you, and I was right, and—and—”</p><p>It was his turn to grab hold of Raul, slender fingers curling tightly around the front of the man’s teal mechanic jumpsuit. “Who am I, Raul? Who are you? How do we know each other? Please—please, tell me who I am!”</p><p>All words abandoned Raul for a long minute as he stared back at the desperation before him. An unyielding tide of clashing emotions swelled within him.</p><p>Guilt for letting this happen. Anger at the people who had done it. Despair that Cosmo couldn’t remember.</p><p>But more than anything…</p><p>He folded Cosmo into a tight embrace that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to relinquish. “Gracias a dios que estas bien…”</p><p>
  <em>Thank god that you’re alright. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Okay, so—how exactly did we meet again?”</p><p>Cosmo’s question, asked over the crackle of a warm fire and the chirping of nighttime insects, drew a half-laugh from Raul as he stirred the pot of beans warming over the flame.</p><p>“You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve gotten forgetful. Is that what it’s gonna be like for me in a few years?”</p><p>The teasing drew a pout from Cosmo, and another chuckle from the ghoul.</p><p>“You found my half-dead ass beneath an overpass. C’mon boss, it’s not a lot to remember.”</p><p>“It’s not my fault. I’m trying not to forget.” Cosmo drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them. “I think I remember that… you were all sorts of roughed up, right?”</p><p>“That’s one way to put it. Honestly, it should have been full dead instead of half dead.”</p><p>“Right, right…” A lightbulb went off. “You… you dragged yourself like that from… Two Sun, right?”</p><p>“Pfft—how do you remember that damn joke but forget how we met? Tucson, boss, Tucson.”</p><p>Cosmo’s face lit up. “No matter how much the locals want to call it Two Sun?”</p><p>“Exactamundo. Though… I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t remember the rest of that.”</p><p>He brought a spoonful of the beans to his mouth to taste them. His comment confused Cosmo.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Just that. Trust me boss, I don’t speak in riddles.”</p><p> </p><p>###</p><p> </p><p>“What kind of stuff did we do?”</p><p>Trudging up the I-15 North, they followed its path towards the glittering lights in the distance—New Vegas, and more pieces of Cosmo’s lost memories.</p><p>“Well, for awhile we just kinda did odd job repairs for Freeside folk.”</p><p>“Oh! Is that why I’m good at repairing stuff?”</p><p>“Prolly. Also, good? Ehhhh… you’re like, average I’d say. Or at least you were.” Raul lightly rapped the top of Cosmo’s skull with his knuckles. “Maybe the bullet changed that, who knows.”</p><p>Cosmo lightly swatted his hand away. “What else did we do?”</p><p>“Er… not much, honestly, boss.”</p><p>“C’mon, there has to be <em>something</em>.”</p><p>Raul was quiet. “… Well, at one point we made it onto the Strip. Did some work at one of the casinos there, but…”</p><p>“… But what?” Curiosity tilted Cosmo’s head to the side.</p><p>“… Y’know, you keep askin’ all these questions boss, but you haven’t even asked me what <em>I’ve</em> been up to since you disappeared.”</p><p>“O-Oh, uh—”</p><p>For just a moment, Raul feigned a sniff. “I’m hurt, boss.”</p><p>“N-No, please don’t—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—what’ve you been up to?”</p><p>The fake frown quickly gave way to a smarmy grin. “I’m teasin’. For the most part, anyway. I spent a couple of weeks lookin’ for you, then…”</p><p>“… You gave up?”</p><p>“Oof. You’re not wrong, but you could’ve worded that a little nicer.” With a sigh Raul rubbed the back of his aching neck. “It’s true. I kinda gave up hope that you were still out there. I know what the Mojave is like.”</p><p>He worked his jaw, his thin lips pursing into a grimace. “… Still. Givin’ up on you like that is… Lo siento. Sorry. That was just a chicken shit thing to do.”</p><p>He felt Cosmo’s fingers touch his forearm. Smooth skin against irradiated. “It’s okay. Everything worked out in the end, right? So there’s no point in beating yourself up over it.”</p><p>Cosmo’s smile could have lit up the night sky. “We’re back together, that’s what’s important.”</p><p>“… Yeah. Yeah… I guess you’re right.”  </p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Strip beckoned in the distance. Its multi-colored lights pierced the darkening sky, acting as a beacon across the entire Mojave. There weren’t many places where its glow couldn’t be seen on the horizon.</p><p>Cosmo didn’t know why he was compelled to seek the Strip, he just was. There was something there related to his forgotten past, and he wanted desperately to find it—even though the thought itself evoked the faintest panic deep in his gut. Or maybe it was just nervousness? Yeah, that had to be it.</p><p> </p><p>####</p><p> </p><p>The road brought him and Raul towards Camp McCarran, established in the McCarran airport—or what was left of it after the bombs dropped. The NCR had established a base there, a much-needed foothold in the Freeside area outside of the Strip.</p><p>            It was also a target under siege, and the pair’s path forward was blocked—figuratively, and literally by the barricades erected in their path.</p><p>“Sorry. No civilians beyond this point.” One of the NCR grunts posted at the barricade was apologetic as they approached.</p><p>“Huh? Wait, why?”</p><p>“The Fiends have the run of the area. Until we’re able to push them back into their territory, we can’t allow any travelers to pass through.”</p><p>Raul rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, that’s just our luck isn’t it?”</p><p>“Sorry. You’re not the first ones I’ve had to turn away.” He jerked his thumb towards the entrance to the camp. “There’s a few tents set up for civilians in there, if you need a place to camp for the night. You don’t want to be out on these roads right now anyway.”</p><p>With no better option, they took his advice and made their way through the gate into the airport parking lot. The whole compound was well secured behind sturdy walls, so they would be safe. But the walls weren’t thick enough to muffle the sounds of gunfire all around. It sounded like an all-out war out there.</p><p>“It feels… familiar here.” Cosmo stopped in his tracks, his head swiveling around like an owl’s as he tried to take everything in.</p><p>“Well yeah. We’ve been here before, boss. C’mon, don’t just stand in the middle of the road like that.”</p><p>Raul grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him along. His lips were pursed taut again. He didn’t want to be here, and he didn’t want Cosmo to be here either. But he knew that there was no convincing the courier of changing his mind about going to New Vegas, so there wasn’t much he could do besides try and keep him out of harms’ way—</p><p>“Holy sh-shit. That really y-you, Cosmo?”  </p><p>He stopped at Ten of Spades’ iconic stutter. Of course First Recon was still here. Why wouldn’t they be?</p><p>Cosmo’s head tilted to the side as a familiar yet unfamiliar soldier came jogging their way. The lower part of his face was covered by the high collar of his uniform, which was otherwise standard issue for NCR soldiers.</p><p>“You know me?”</p><p>“Of course I d-do, man. What kind of question is that? Where the h-hell did you run off to, anyway? A-A-All of us have been worried about you.”</p><p>“<em>All</em> of… Sorry, but…” Cosmo shifted awkwardly and pointed to the scar on his head. “I… don’t remember. I got shot in the head.”</p><p>Ten’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. “You—what? Holy shit, wh-when—<em>how</em>? <em>Why</em>?”</p><p>“He doesn’t remember. On account of getting shot in the head.”</p><p>“How are you even a-alive, man?”</p><p>Cosmo shrugged his shoulders with a bewildered expression. “I have no idea. And if I did, I’d prolly have forgotten by now.”</p><p>“Sh-shit.” Ten ran his fingers through his buzz cut hair, equally bewildered. “Okay, wait, hold on a s-sec. First Recon’s on break right now—think it’d do everyone a lot of good to see you’re okay.”</p><p>“Um—sure, but—sorry, I don’t remember your name…”</p><p>“Oh. Ten of Spades.”</p><p>“… That’s your <em>name</em>?”</p><p>“Well, n-nickname really. Working my way up to something like Jack of Spades, but th-that’s not important right now. C’mon, they should a-all still be in the mess hall right now.”</p><p>Excitement pushed Cosmo’s tired legs forward as he and Raul followed Ten’s lead. The whole exchange had been painfully awkward, but this was exactly what he was looking for in seeking out New Vegas.</p><p>Raul was decidedly lagging behind, all but being pulled along by Cosmo who still held onto his hand. It wasn’t a bad way to make sure that he didn’t get himself involved in someone else’s mess and run off to fix it.</p><p>Several times since their reunion he found himself laboring to believe that this was the same Cosmo he’d lost just a couple of months ago…</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mess hall was in truth just another tent with a table shoved into it, but it served its purpose nonetheless. The rest of First Recon was sat around it, forcing down the less than flavorful offerings from the kitchen airport.</p><p>“Well look who finally decided to show his fuckin’ face!” Corporal Betsy was the first to lay eyes on the trio as they squeezed their way into the claustrophobic face. “Do you know how much trouble you caused everyone?”</p><p>“I-It’s not that—I didn’t mean to—”</p><p>Cosmo recited what had happened for what felt like the hundredth time. To his dismay, the sight of them didn’t ignite any recollections, and so they introduced themselves to him once more—Corporal Betsy, of course; Ten of Spades; Corporal Sterling; Sergeant Bitter Root; and Lieutenant Gorobets.</p><p>The introductions went in round-table—well, rectangular table—fashion, and room was made for both Cosmo and Raul to join them so they didn’t have to stand there awkwardly the whole time. Particularly thoughtful on their part, since the pair had been walking for hours; Raul especially was feeling it in his pre-war bones.</p><p>“So… Raul asked you all to help look for me when I disappeared?” The image was heartwarming, but also, “Why you in particular? No offense, of course,” he looked to Raul, who was sipping on some weak coffee to try and stay awake, “but it’s just… really specific, y’know? There’s a lot of NCR folks around, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” the ghoul set the cup down with a grimace, “but you—we—have… <em>history</em> with these guys in particular.”</p><p>“That’s putting it lightly.” Bitter Root leaned back on the bench. “Feels like just yesterday that we pulled you out of that camp.”</p><p>“Camp? Like… a camp like this?”</p><p>“Right, you… probably don’t remember.”</p><p>“Might be for the better, really,” Sterling nodded his head.</p><p>“But I <em>want</em> to. I want to remember everything.” There was tangible frustration in Cosmo’s voice as he spoke. “Wouldn’t you?”  </p><p>“Honestly,” Gorobets shook his head, “there’s plenty that I’d rather forget.”</p><p>Everyone around him nodded in agreement to the sentiment, and Cosmo was left dumbstruck.</p><p>“… Was it… really that bad?” His voice was small. Now he was almost afraid of the answer.</p><p>“A-As bad as a Legion slave camp could be,” Ten said.</p><p>The color drained from his face. “I… was a slave?”</p><p>Raul set his mug down. He knew this was going to happen. “Yeah, boss. You were."</p><p>“I-I don’t—that’s—” Cosmo rested his aching head in his hand. It was a lot to take in. “How? When?”</p><p>“For fuck’s sake,” Betsy was getting impatient, “you want a full report or something?”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>“I was <em>joking</em>. You must be all kinds of fucked up if you want to relive that shit. You were a slave—god only knows why Caesar decided to spare you instead of tie you to a cross or kill you where you stood—and we pulled you out. That’s all there is to it, you don’t need to know all the sordid details about how you were beaten and abused—”</p><p>“That’s enough, Corporal.”</p><p>Gorobets’ voice was sharp, and Betsy immediately shut up. She was clearly agitated, though, drumming her fingertips against the tabletop with a scowl.</p><p>“You need to cool your head. Go take a walk around the camp.”</p><p>“Fine. I’ll walk myself right to that cute little number working supplies. Better her company than this.”</p><p>She slammed her fork down by her plate and left the tent without another word, leaving Cosmo reeling with the ones that she’d already said.</p><p>The migraine was expanding to cover the entirety of his forehead—he wanted to remember everything, no matter how painful the memories were… right? Or…</p><p>Was there… another reason that his own mind was fighting so hard to keep them locked away?  </p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lying in the thin bedroll provided by the NCR, Cosmo stared up at the darkened canvas above. He was nowhere near being able to sleep, not with this migraine throbbing in his forehead, and definitely not with the revelations still racing in his mind. A slave. He had been a slave, for who knows how long. There wasn’t much that he remembered about Caesar or his Legion, but the little that he did know made cold shivers race down his spine.</p><p>And the more he laid there thinking about it, straddling the line between remembering and not remembering, the panic began to set in. He could feel it steadily climbing its way up his throat, choking him, the darkness on the corners of his vision swirling until it looked like there were figures looming over him. Featureless, faceless figures, but they were terrifying without.</p><p>“… Hey Raul? Are you awake?”</p><p>The ghoul stirred beside him, shifting from his side onto his back. “Unfortunately, boss. Hard to sleep on the cold hard pavement.” Now it was his turn to stare up at the canvas roof above them.</p><p>Cosmo noticed him shivering and sat up a bit on his elbow. “Are you cold?”</p><p>“Yeah, I am, thanks for asking. Ghouls like me get cold easily, on account of not having skin. Would have thought NCR knew that by now; not like they don’t have ghouls in their ranks…”</p><p>He heard the zipper come open on Cosmo’s sleeping bag and lifted his head. “Ay, no, I didn’t mean for you to give me yours. It’s just for one night, I’ll live.”</p><p>“In,” Cosmo insisted, holding his bag open and gesturing for Raul to climb in with him.</p><p>“… C’mon now boss, you’re gonna give a ghoul the wrong idea.”</p><p>Somewhat impatiently, Cosmo patted the empty space in his bag. “I know what I’m doing.”</p><p>“… Alright, alright, I give. It’s gonna be a tight fit, though…”</p><p>He was right; two grown men squeezed into a single sleeping bag was cramped, to say the least. “You sure you’re okay with this, boss? It’s gonna get real awkward in a hurry when one of us starts spooning the other in our sleep.”</p><p>“Would it be the first time?”</p><p>“… No,” Raul admitted—and Cosmo snuggled right up to him without further ado. “Wh—jesus boss, now you’re <em>really</em> gonna give me the wrong idea.”</p><p>“Now it can’t be awkward.” Cosmo’s voice was muffled, his face buried in the front of the ghoul’s jumpsuit. He could feel the chills in Raul’s body begin to subside; after a long minute, Raul’s arms folded around him. It felt… nice. “… Hey Raul?”</p><p>“Boss, I’m real tired. Can this conversation wait until morning?”</p><p>“There was something between us, right? I’m not just imagining it?”</p><p>Raul was silent for a time. Then, “I dunno, boss, we’re cuddling up in the same sleeping bag right now. You tell me. I’m not uncomfortable with it, if that’s what you’re asking.”</p><p>“I just…” His voice trailed off. “… Nevermind. It’s nothing. Good night.”</p><p>“Night, boss…”</p><p>The warmth send Raul off to dreamland in a hurry, leaving Cosmo alone with his thoughts.</p><p>
  <em>‘Am I looking for things that don’t exist…?’</em>
</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Boss, have I said that this is a bad idea? Because this is a bad idea.”</p><p>Raul’s dissent was uttered as the pair crouched behind a crumbling half-wall. They’d made their way deep into Fiend territory, and from this spot they could see one of the prominent leaders: Violet, and her pack of hounds.</p><p>“You said so before we started, yeah.” Cosmo kept his own voice down to a whisper. His entire frame was shaking. It wasn’t the deranged maniac that scared him, it was her dogs. There were so many of them, and they were so big. “And yeah, it’s—this is up there with running up Black Mountain in terms of bad ideas.”</p><p>“Then what the hell are we doing here?”</p><p>What the hell, indeed. This would mark the third day that they’d been laid up in McCarran because of the Fiends. There was no sign that the war between them and the NCR was letting up anytime soon; if anything, the Fiends were winning, bit by bit.</p><p>“H-Hopefully,” he ran his tongue over his dry lips and swallowed, “<em>hopefully</em>, we’re going to start turning the tides.”</p><p>“<em>Hopefully</em>, he says…” Raul rubbed his face with a quiet groan. “Where the hell is that merc that’s supposed to be helping us?”</p><p>“Think, uh—think he said that he was looking for a good position to snipe from.”</p><p>“And the NCR can’t do this because?”</p><p>“Raul, I honestly have no idea.” Cosmo threw up his hands in exasperation. “Someone higher up refuses to do anything, so nobody at McCarran can either.”</p><p>“And how is this our problem?”</p><p>“Because—” His hands fell limply back to his side, his eyes still locked on the dogs, “because we can’t get into the Strip otherwise. And I—I just—I need to get there, Raul.”</p><p>There were answers on the Strip. Answers about who he used to be. About the man who put a bullet in his head. And he was going to do whatever it took to get there.</p><p>A long minute passed, and Raul finally sighed. “Do you even have a plan for this?”</p><p>“... Honestly, no,” he admitted softly. “I was—first thought was to let myself get caught as a distraction, but—”</p><p>One of the hounds howled out of nowhere, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling back away from the half wall as all color drained from his face. He was too scared.</p><p>“Shit, did they smell us?” Raul risked a peek around the corner. No, it wasn’t the two of them that the dogs had caught a whiff of—it was that good for nothing merc, Little Buster.</p><p>All at once the entire pack went charging, baying and snarling—and Cosmo saw the chance to make a move.</p><p>Without a word he scrambled out from behind the half-wall; it wasn’t until he was well amidst the RVs and trailers that he could hear Violet’s cackling from the tower upon which she stood watch.</p><p>“Fuckin’ idiot!” She watched her beloved pets chase down the intruder from down the scope of her hunting rifle, face alight with twisted glee.</p><p>Cosmo crept closer. Quietly as he could he tugged his own rifle from its strap across his back and tried to still his breathing. He was going to have to kill her. The thought scared him, and the gun quivered in his grip.</p><p>She was one of many Fiend leaders with NCR blood on their hands. There was no way to reason with the drug heads—that much had been recounted to him through Major Dhatri and the rest of First Recon.</p><p>He tried to still his hands and line up a shot on her moving head. But there was a part of him that was afraid of what would happen when he pulled the trigger. Something in his messed up brain that was whispering to him not to do it. That it would change him.</p><p>But there was no other choice. She stopped dead in the crosshairs of his sights, and he took the shot.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cosmo could still hear the ringing in his ears from the gunshot. Could still feel the vibrations reverberating through his body. His bullet had found its mark, and it felt as though he was floating above his own body, spectating from a third perspective as Violet’s body unceremoniously tumbled forward off of the tower upon which she stood.</p><p>The second he’d pulled the trigger—the second he’d heard that explosive shot leave the barrel of his rifle—he was back in the cemetery in Goodsprings. Back on his knees, with a pistol pointed at his own head. He couldn’t remember if it was just a memory, or his reality. If everything up to that point had just been a dream or not.</p><p>“Cosmo!”</p><p>It was only when Raul grabbed him by the shoulders that he came crashing back into himself—the world came back to life, the smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils and the pounding of his own heart in his ears drowned out the howls of the hounds in the distance.</p><p>“Raul?” His voice shook along with his frame, and in desperation he grabbed onto the ghoul’s arms. It hadn’t been a dream—he was still Cosmo, and Raul was still there with him.</p><p>“Holy hell, boss, don’t run off on me like that. Are you okay?”</p><p>“Y… Yeah,” Cosmo swallowed and nodded shakily, “yeah, I think so.”</p><p>Relieved didn’t even begin to describe how either of them felt. After a long minute Raul let go, and Cosmo got to shaky feet. They carried him to the edge of the tower, and he peered down at the body lying in a crumpled heap below.</p><p>“I… killed her.”</p><p>“Well, yeah boss.” The ghoul came to stand beside him. “That’s usually what happens when you shoot someone in the head. You’re just the exception to the rule.”</p><p>“I know.” Without realizing it, he started rubbing his arms; he felt uncomfortable in his own skin now. “I just… this isn’t the first time I’ve killed someone, right?”</p><p>“Well…” After a pause, Raul shook his head. “Sorry to tell you, boss, but you have a lot of blood on your hands. I mean, this is the Mojave—who doesn’t?”</p><p>Somehow, hearing that was of little comfort. Cosmo knew that this desire to resolve conflicts peaceably was a childish, foolish dream—sometimes, violence was the only outcome. Some people were impossible to change the minds of. But, still…</p><p>The baying of the hounds began to draw closer again, and he went rigid. Little Buster was sprinting back towards them, bringing the entire pack chasing him along.</p><p>“A little help, would be nice!” He yelled over their raucous snarls.</p><p>“N-No, oh no, please don’t—” Cosmo quickly stepped back away from the edge, paler than a ghost. “D-Don’t bring them back here!”</p><p>“Boss, be careful—”</p><p>But the warning came too late, and Cosmo’s foot slipped off the opposite edge. He toppled backwards and hit the ground six feet below with an unceremonious thud. Up above, Raul’s face peeked over the platform down at him.</p><p>“I tried to warn you.”</p><p>At least the tension of the moment was gone.</p><p> </p><p>###</p><p> </p><p>The look on Major Dhatri’s face as Buster presented Violet’s armor to him as proof of her death was one that Cosmo would never forget. It was the look of a man in utter disbelief, mixed with an equal part of relief and a fair bit of joy.</p><p>“Yep,” Buster wore a smirk as he buffed his nails on the front of his shirt, “don’t wanna toot my own horn or anything but I think I would have put your First Recon men to shame. All it took was one clean shot and <em>pow</em>,” he mimicked the shot with his finger, while Cosmo and Raul looked on in disbelief of their own, “down she went.”</p><p>“<em>You</em> took her out?” The major turned the armor over several times in his hands.</p><p>“Sure did. Ain’t that right, you two?” He didn’t give them a chance to answer before he puffed out his chest and gave what he thought was a hearty laugh. “They deserve some credit too. They did a good job distracting those dogs of her for me so I could get the shot off.”</p><p>More than a little perturbed, Raul opened his mouth to protest—but Cosmo put his hand out in front of him before he could say a word.</p><p>“Don’t.” He shook his head, wearing the most <em>done</em> expression. “Just let him have it. It’s not worth the fight.”</p><p>“Aaaalright, boss. Whatever you say.”</p><p>Dhatri tore his eyes away from the armor to look at all three of them. “Thank you. I can’t overstate how monumental this is.”</p><p>“Er…” The confidence Buster displayed began to flake away. “Monumental how?”</p><p>“Without those damn hounds of hers, we’ll have some breathing room.” Tucking the armor under his arm, “You’ve already done a huge service to the NCR, so I’d hate to impose on any of you further. But given the relative ease that the three of you had in infiltrating their territory…”</p><p>“Oh, here it comes,” Raul uttered under his breath.</p><p>“… I would be even more grateful if you would consider helping us take out another of their leaders. If we can do that much, then it might be possible for us to open up the road to the Strip.”</p><p>Cosmo stood up a bit straighter. “Who?”</p><p>“His name is Cook Cook—”</p><p>“Nope,” Buster abruptly threw up his hands and began walking away, “nope, no thank you. I’m out. You’re on your own with that one.”</p><p>Dhatri sighed. “I was expecting that… I won’t hold it against you two if you decide to back out either.”</p><p>To his surprise however Cosmo gave a quick shake of his head. There was a fire burning in his eyes, a determination etched onto his features. “I won’t. Just point me in the right direction.”</p><p>“For better or worse,” Raul jerked his thumb towards Cosmo, “I’m with him.”</p><p>It was a response that Dhatri clearly hadn’t been anticipating, and he almost hesitated before speaking again. These weren’t trained soldiers with hundreds of hours of combat experience under their belts; they were civilians, good, honest people, and he knew all too well that he could very well be condemning them to a fate worse than death with this one.</p><p> </p><p>###</p><p> </p><p>Back into Fiend territory they went, masked by the dark of night as they weaved through the rubble-strewn ruins. The night was a blessing, but also a curse; Raul’s eyesight was dodgy even in broad daylight, and he could scarcely make out Cosmo’s backside a few feet ahead of him. Not that he was staring, or anything. Too dark for that.</p><p>“Move faster, old man.”</p><p>And then there was Corporal Betsy bringing up <em>his</em> rear, her voice hissing out the words with more than a little contempt. How she managed to move silently with all that gear on he’d never know.</p><p>“Hey, would you like to trade places or something?”</p><p>“No, because I don’t want to slow down every two seconds to let you catch up.”</p><p>“Shhh.” Cosmo stopped and looked back to the pair, bringing his finger up to his lips to shush them. He pointed to the other side of a collapsed building. There were Fiends close by. The two clammed up.</p><p>He couldn’t blame the corporal for being on edge and angry. She’d been pulled out of a restless sleep to go on an unapproved mission without the Major or Lieutenant’s knowledge; that alone was grounds to be discharged. But there was no way that Cosmo was going to do this without her, and there was no way she was going to pass up the chance to take out the bastard that raped her.</p><p>They all three of them pressed up against the crumbling wall and listened. It was always an unsettling thing to hear the Fiends, let alone in the dead of night. They were always so twitchy, always making some sort of vocal noise be it a snort, a cackle, a yelled or muttered swear. Being doped up on just about every chem under the sun would do that.</p><p>A chill ran down Cosmo’s spine as one of the Fiends giggled psychotically. The Major’s warnings were still ringing in his ears.</p><p>
  <em>“The piece of shit is pure animal. He raped one of my snipers, and that makes this personal. Also, he’s got a flamethrower, and he’s damn good with it. From what I hear, he either rapes or burns every living thing he gets his hands on.”</em>
</p><p>The clouds overhead parted, and the night became a bit brighter with the moonlight. Cook Cook’s kitchen was just up ahead, surrounded by overturned signs whose lettering cast long shadows across the earth.</p><p>“There’s a spot on the other side.” Betsy shifted closer to Cosmo. Her voice was low, curt, brutally professional. “I can get a clean shot from there. I need you to cover me while I move into position.”</p><p>“Cover you how?”</p><p>“Whatever gets me there, I don’t care. Distract them or something.”</p><p>Raul scooted to Cosmo’s other side. “And how the hell do you expect us to do that without getting caught out?”</p><p>In response, the corporal picked up a piece of rubble at her feet and held it up. “Just get their attention somewhere else. Or do you want me to do that thinking for you too?”</p><p>Before the ghoul could answer, Cosmo took the rubble from her hand. “We’ve got it.” Peering through a small gap in the brickwork, he could see that the Fiends were on the move. “Now’s your chance.”</p><p>She didn’t need to be told twice, and was gone before he’d finished. Clutching the rubble tightly in his fingers, Cosmo gestured for Raul to follow him in the other direction.</p><p>“You don’t have to keep following me into this, you know,” he whispered as they crawled along the wall. “I mean, I don’t want to do it alone, but—I know I keep getting us into trouble—”</p><p>“Boss, at this point I know exactly what I’ve gotten myself into with you. Like I said, for better or worse, I’m in it with you.”</p><p>He didn’t need to see Raul’s face to know that there was a wry smile on it, and he felt a lump form in the back of his throat. “You’re the best.”</p><p>“Tell me something I don’t already know.”</p><p>Swallowing, he turned his attention back to the task at hand. Under his breath, he muttered, “Maybe I will if we make it out of this alive.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>####</p><p>Cosmo’s head throbbed with a pain he couldn’t even begin to describe as he began to stir from a dreamless sleep. Once more, he found himself staring up at the tan canvas of a tent roof—though he couldn’t recall the other times he’d done so. Nor could he remember the events that had led up to him lying there.</p><p>“Cosmo?”</p><p>Raul’s face moved into his field of vision, blurry at first and then growing sharper. Worry was etched into the lines on his irradiated face, and relief seemed to almost glimmer in those pitch black eyes.</p><p>“… Raul?”</p><p>“That’s my name, boss.” The ghoul let out the breath he’d been holding and sat back in his chair, giving Cosmo space to sit up—a mistake, as the world began to sway like a cruise ship in a maritime storm. “Por el amor de Dios, you can’t keep scaring me like this. I’m an old man, my heart can’t take many more heart attacks.”</p><p>“Sorry—” It felt like a knife was being driven into Cosmo’s skull, and he winced, digging the heel of his palm into one of his eyes to try and ease the pain. He didn’t recognize where they were. “What happened?”  </p><p>“Well,” Raul rested one leg over the other and tapped at his own skull, “you took a driver to the back of the skull.”</p><p>“I did?!” Another throb of pain, and he fought the urge to vomit. Any sort of explosive emotions were out of the question right now. “H-How?” He asked, his voice much more measured. “I don’t remember anything…”</p><p>“Hey, you remembered me. Are you trying to say I’m nothing?”</p><p>“N-No, of course not!”</p><p>The ghoul cracked a half-smirk. “I’m kidding, boss. Calm down.” The smirk faded. “You volunteered to be live bait to lure out one of the Fiend leaders for the NCR.”</p><p>A blank look greeted the explanation. The terms <em>sounded</em> familiar, but he could not for the life of him recall them. “The who and the what?”</p><p>“The military, boss. Remember? You got it in your head to help them clear the road to Freeside so we could get into the Strip—”</p><p>Cosmo held up his hand, silently asking Raul to stop as he dug into his eye more. Now it felt like his skull was slowly being pried apart. The knowledge was <em>there</em>, and it was raising hell on its way to the surface.</p><p>“Boss?” Raul sat up a bit straighter again as the color drained from the courier’s face.</p><p>Staying still and forcing a few deep breaths helped, and the pain began to ease, albeit slowly. “I’m okay,” he uttered once he no longer felt the urge to simultaneously vomit and pass out.</p><p>“No you’re not.” The ghoul got to his feet. “Don’t move. I’ll grab one of the doctors.”</p><p>He took one step away from the bed, and Cosmo caught him by his wrist to keep him from going any further. “Don’t leave me.” It was a plea, a desperate one.</p><p> “Boss, I’ll be gone for like thirty seconds <em>tops</em>—”</p><p>“Please!” Cosmo’s fingers gripped tighter. They were trembling. “I’m scared I’ll forget you.”</p><p>Raul looked him in the face, silent; after a long minute, he relented and sank back down into his chair. “Alright, I ain’t going nowhere.”</p><p>The courier visibly settled back into his skin, though he didn’t relinquish his grip on Raul’s wrist. “Thank you.” His voice was soft, almost too soft to be heard over the general din coming from outside the tent. “I know I’ve been a pain, but—thank you.”</p><p>“… Nah, boss.” Raul’s thin lips pursed into a taut line. He gently pried Cosmo’s fingers off of his wrist and took hold of his hand properly. “You don’t gotta thank me. I’m just repaying the favor.”</p><p>“The… favor?”</p><p>“Remember? You saved my life. The least I can do is stick around with you.”</p><p>Raul said it with the best intentions, but it left a bitter taste in Cosmo’s mouth. He did remember that much.</p><p>
  <em>‘He’s only here because he feels like he owes me…’</em>
</p><p>The tent flap lifted, and a beam of sunlight cut through the interior. “I thought I heard a commotion in here.”</p><p>A stone-faced woman stepped inside, clad in a worn yet clean lab coat. In her hand was a clipboard, piled high with an inch worth of yellowed paper.  There was surprise in her eyes as they looked at Cosmo, sitting upright on the cot—he’d been lying there for three days at that point. Lifeless.</p><p>“Uh—” Cosmo had to twist his torso to be able to look at her. It was agony. “Are you NCR?”</p><p>“Me? No.” She shook her head. “Julie Farkas. I’m with the Followers of the Apocalypse. And we’ve met before.”</p><p>“Oh—” Pink tinted Cosmo’s cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t remember much of anything these days.”</p><p>“Well, given that you’ve had two instances of severe head trauma, I’d say it’s a wonder you remember <em>anything</em>.” Julie flipped up the few top sheets on the clipboard as she spoke. “Somebody up there must be looking out for you, for whatever reason.”</p><p>The last part was spoken with such… disdain. Cosmo’s face fell a bit. “Sorry, did—did I do something wrong?”</p><p>“This time, no.” She let the papers fall and tucked the clipboard under her arm. “I’ll be back in a bit to give you an examination. I’m genuinely curious to find out how much your mental faculties have deteriorated at this point.”</p><p>She stepped back out. Cosmo shifted his gaze to Raul, confused. “Raul, what did I do?”</p><p>“Boss… look, don’t worry about it right now. You don’t need to be getting all worked up.”</p><p>A cold pit settled in his stomach. “It was bad, wasn’t it?” he asked in a small voice. The ghoul didn’t give an answer this time.</p><p> </p><p>####</p><p> </p><p>Old Mormon Fort was where Cosmo had been taken, and it was <em>busy</em>. Followers and refuge seekers alike packed into its cobblestone walls, and the noise was enough to make his headache erupt anew as Raul helped him out of the tent.</p><p>“It’s so—so <em>loud</em>.”</p><p>“Get used to it, boss. This is nothing compared to the rest of Freeside.”  </p><p>The volume and sheer number of bodies moving in such a confined space made Cosmo’s head swim again. He hadn’t let go of Raul’s hand during the time Julie examined him, and he didn’t have any intention of letting go now either. “Why here?”</p><p>“You mean, why’d we bring you here?” Cosmo nodded. “Didn’t have much choice. We tried bringing you to the New Vegas clinic since it’s affiliated with the NCR, but the doc there said she wasn’t qualified to treat head trauma. Well, this kind of head trauma anyway. She’s a shrink,” he clarified at the blank look on Cosmo’s face.</p><p>“Oh… honestly, I probably could use one of those too.”</p><p>It was enough to earn a snicker from the ghoul. “Yeah, you and me both. You doing okay?”</p><p>“Yeah. I can walk a bit more.”</p><p>There was a reason for him to be up and about so soon. Julie wanted to begin the rehabilitation process quickly, as well as further test his coordination. She stood by the tent door and watched with a critical eye as he and Raul slowly traveled the length of the fort. And hers weren’t the only ones on the courier; he could practically feel a dozen pairs burning holes in him all the while.</p><p>“… Raul, you have to tell me. What was it that I did to these people?”</p><p>The ghoul pursed his lips again, and said nothing.</p><p>“Please. Did I hurt them? Did I kill one of them?!”</p><p>“No no, nothing like that.” He sighed. “Why is it so important to you?”</p><p>“Because I want to make things right. And I can’t if I don’t know what I did.”</p><p>“I’ll tell you what you did.”</p><p>This time it was a man that spoke out. His visage was familiar yet unfamiliar, like so many other things. He stood nearby, having been busy with some sort of machinery when the pair passed. Cold grey eyes stared at them from behind spectacles, and like Julie, he wore a clean lab coat.</p><p>“You will?” Cosmo turned and took a step towards him, hopeful.</p><p>“Sure.” He adjusted his glasses with a gloved hand. “But where do I begin? You stole valuable medical supplies from us to sell, you helped distribute chems to people recovering from addictions, you accosted our guards multiple times, you threatened traders from trading with us, desecrated the graves of those who we couldn’t save, vandalized our fort, and probably kicked a few puppies at some point.”</p><p>With each transgression listed, Cosmo’s face fell further. By the last, his hand had covered his mouth. He was horrified, sickened, disgusted by himself—and he couldn’t remember <em>any</em> of it. Finally letting go of Raul’s hand, he dropped to his hands and knees to bow at the spectacled man’s feet. “I’m sorry! I am so, <em>so</em> sorry!”</p><p>“Urk—” The man took a step backwards. He hadn’t been expecting such a desperate display of remorse, and for a moment, it showed on his face. “Do you really think ‘sorry’ is going to repair the damage you’ve caused?”</p><p>“Qué te den, asshole.” Raul knelt down beside Cosmo and tried to get him to stand again. “He doesn’t remember any of it.”</p><p>“Well isn’t that convenient—”</p><p>“Arcade, that’s enough.”</p><p>Julie was striding towards them swiftly; this time, she was staring hard at the man, who scowled and looked away. “The Followers don’t allow grudges to get in the way of our work.”</p><p>“I’m not letting it get in the way. He explicitly <em>asked</em> me to tell him.”</p><p>“You know that’s not what I’m getting at. There’s no point in holding what he can’t remember against him.” To Cosmo, she said, “That’s enough for today. I want you to go and rest.”</p><p>Cosmo shook his head, shifting to bow towards her instead. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice trembling. “I really am.”</p><p>“Yes, I heard you the first time.”</p><p>“Please, if there’s <em>anything</em> I can do to even start making up for it—”</p><p>“We can discuss that later. After you’ve recovered. Now, on your feet; you’re causing a scene.”</p><p>She and Raul all but forced Cosmo to stand, and the ghoul walked him back towards the tent. If he felt sick before, he felt absolutely nauseous now. How vile of a person did he used to be to cause so much grief for such generous people? He was almost afraid of the answer. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One day turned into two, and two into three, then four. On the fifth, Julie was satisfied enough to allow Cosmo to move about freely—that, or maybe she was just tired of hearing him apologize every two minutes.</p><p>“Go on,” she waved her clipboard at him, nudging him towards the tent door, “get out of here. Just make sure that you stay out of the way if you intend to stick around.”</p><p>As ever, Raul was at his side—as he had been for the past week. “Let me guess. That’s exactly what you intend to do.”</p><p>“Well, yeah.” Cosmo looked around at the fort. A deep sense of guilt and shame still weighed heavily on his slender shoulders. “There has to be something I can do to start making up for what I did to them…”</p><p>“Boss, you gotta remember at least one of the times Julie told you not to sweat that.”</p><p>Cosmo looked anywhere but at the ghoul. “I really don’t,” he said, hoping to somehow fool him; judging by the look he got, it didn’t work. “Okay, so maybe I do. But that doesn’t mean it’s still not the right thing to do.”</p><p>He stopped, his gaze shifting to the dirt at his feet. “… I won’t ask you to stick around with me this time, though.”</p><p>“Yeah, we’ve been over this before. I’m in it for the long haul with you.”</p><p>“Why? Because you feel like you owe me?” Gesturing around at the Followers, struggling to keep his voice from quivering, “To them, the past me might as well have died in that grave. Why can’t it be the same for you?”</p><p>Raul looked on on confusion. “What are you even getting at?”</p><p>“I don’t want you to stick around just because you feel obligated to; I want you to be around because that’s what <em>you</em> want to do.”</p><p>“And that <em>is</em> what I want to do. I told you before, I’m a <em>real</em> simple guy. I don’t speak in riddles.” Raul moved closer. He could see the courier’s frame trembling; after some hesitation, he folded his arms around him. “I won’t lie. You used to be one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever known. But you were no different to that Corporal lady, and nobody blamed you for it, not after what you went through. At least, I didn’t. Y siempre, you were always, <em>always</em> good to me. A little gruff around the edges, sure, but good.”</p><p>“Th-that’s… you’re lying.” Now Cosmo’s chin was quivering along with his shoulders, and his voice.</p><p>“Es la verdad, boss. The real, honest truth. And even though you’re different now, that much still hasn’t changed. So believe me when I say that I’m sticking around by choice.”</p><p>He rested a hand against the back of Cosmo’s head and closed his eyes. “I’ve had too many regrets in this life already. I don’t want to add any more to that list. So,” opening his eyes, he released the tearful courier from his hug with a smile, “sorry to break it to you, but you ain’t getting rid of me that easy.”</p><p><em>‘I don’t deserve him,’</em> was all that Cosmo could think as he hastily dried moist eyes on his sleeves. A part of him knew he should be pushing harder, trying to make Raul leave, even if it meant getting nasty—he didn’t want to drag the kind ghoul down into any more danger.</p><p>But he didn’t have it in him to say such things to Raul. To anyone. And deep down he couldn’t bear the thought of him not being around; it scared him, almost as much as the thought of forgetting him altogether did.</p><p>“Ay ay ay, look at what you do to me boss.” Raul rubbed the back of his neck, mindful of the many eyes watching them. “Getting me to go full on cheesy romance movie in front of a crowd. Not many people before or after the war have managed that, ¿tú lo sabes?”</p><p>Cosmo managed a sniveling laugh. “S-Sorry, sorry. C’mon Cosmo, pull it together…” He slapped his cheeks several times. “That’s enough feeling sorry for myself. If you’re really up to it, then let’s see what we can do to lend a hand around here.”</p><p>“You got it, boss.” Raul gave him a thumbs up, feeling even cheesier than he did before. But it was good to see that smile back on the courier’s face. He was willing to put up with a hell of a lot to make sure it stayed there.</p><p> </p><p>####</p><p> </p><p>With laser-sharp focus Arcade carefully cut, weighed and mixed together what he hoped would be a new medicine. That was his role in the Followers, his work conducted in a smaller tent away from the general hustle and bustle of the rest of the Fort. It was easier to work when it wasn’t so loud.</p><p>And definitely easier to work when there wasn’t a pest buzzing around in the background. The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown as he tried his best to ignore Cosmo’s presence. “I told you to stay at least five feet away from me if you’re going to insist on watching.”</p><p>“But I am.”</p><p>“No, you’re not. I can hear that you’re closer.” Without tearing his eyes away from the testing equipment laid out before him, Arcade gestured back at him. “Back by the door. If you can’t follow instructions, then please leave. You’re distracting me.”</p><p>He waited until he heard Cosmo’s feet shuffle a few inches back towards the door, then focused back on the task at hand. Or tried to, at least.</p><p>“I can’t help from all the way back here.”</p><p>“I don’t need help, and certainly not from you. What I need is to be able to concentrate without interruptions.” He held the beaker up to the light and swirled the clear mixture within carefully. What he was looking for was it to change to a light blue, ideally within ten seconds of agitation. When it didn’t, he couldn’t help but sigh. “Damnit, what is it this time… what am I doing wrong?” He looked back to Cosmo and added, “Don’t answer that. It was a rhetorical question.”</p><p>Cosmo held up his palms. “I wasn’t going to.”</p><p>“Hmph.” With flared nostrils Arcade turned back to his work again. He was no longer doubtful that the man truly had no recollection of his transgressions against the Followers, but that didn’t make it much easier to let those long-simmering grudges go.</p><p>“… May I ask something?”</p><p>“You just did,” Arcade cleared away his table and began measuring again, “but fine. What?”</p><p>            “How long have you been studying medicine?”</p><p>“Sorry, I’m not one for small talk. Especially not when I’m <em>busy</em>,” with heavy emphasis on the busy.</p><p> “It’s not small talk, I was… just genuinely curious. You’re knowledgeable enough about it to mix medicines.”</p><p>“I’d say mixing medicines requires more purely scientific knowledge rather than medicinal specifically.”</p><p>His response was curt and businesslike. Cosmo’s shoulders slumped a bit. “Right… sorry, I’ll just… be quiet, then.”</p><p>The courier gave up so quickly, and sounded so… disappointed. “… And as you can see, my proficiencies lie with medicine and science, not dealing with people. I’ve spent more time with my nose in medical textbooks and failed Pre-War socioeconomic policies than I have interfacing with others.”</p><p>Cosmo’s head perked back up, and surprise lingered on his face. Was that an attempt at an apology? He decided to take it as one. “All of which is just a long way of saying that you’re well educated.”</p><p>“I suppose. Though I’m inclined to disagree when I can’t even get this formula correct.” It was starting to drive him crazy, so much so that he began to utter to himself, “My measurements are accurate, my methods are correct, there’s no external factors I haven’t accounted for—” save for the one standing by the door, but he kept that one to himself, “—so what’s the problem?”</p><p>Stopping just short of ripping out some of the blonde hair covering his head, he forced himself to take a deep breath. He’d been at this experiment for as long as Cosmo and Raul had been at the Fort and had nothing to show for it.</p><p>“… Maybe I can take a look?”</p><p>Cosmo’s voice carried the same sort of hopefulness that it had when Arcade offered to enlighten him about his past crimes. The memory of him prostrating himself on the dirt gave rise to a small pit of guilt in Arcade’s stomach.</p><p>“… Oh, fine,” he conceded. “I don’t know what you think you can accomplish, but you certainly couldn’t screw it up considering there’s nothing <em>to</em> screw up.”</p><p>He pushed his chair over to give Cosmo room to stand next to him, and rested cheek in hand to watch him. “Do you even have any experience in either field?”</p><p>“Well, not that I can remember.” The tip of Cosmo’s tongue poked out between his teeth as he replicated the experiment. “What is it that you’re trying to make, exactly?”</p><p>“An improved version of the classic Stimpak.”</p><p>“A Super Stimpak?”</p><p>Arcade resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Sure. If you can manage to make it, you can name it that. I’m sure others have.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“An improved Stimpak isn’t a new concept. Back in Navarro—” Arcade had to stop himself, and hastily cleared his throat. “Er, that is to say, back where I grew up there were several versions of it already in circulation. And don’t get me wrong, they were effective, but that effectiveness came with severe side effects. I’d like to replicate a version without them, if possible. Which I’m beginning to doubt it is at this point.” He gave a long, frustrated sigh as he rubbed his face. “I’ve heard of some people making them with everything from Nuka Cola to fruits, but I’d rather not put pure corn syrup and caramel colorant into a medical device, and I’ve tried every fruit that I can get my hand on around here.”</p><p>Fruit. An idea came to Cosmo, and he paused mid-experiment to dig around in his bag.</p><p>“Ack—“ Arcade bolted to his feet. “What are you doing?! You just contaminated the experiment and my entire work area. Now I have to disinfect everything and start all over, <em>again</em>—”</p><p>He stopped as Cosmo held something out to him. In his hands were several large, turnip-like roots, bound together by the leafy green stalks still attached to each. “… What are those?”</p><p>“Xander root. I found them back in Goodsprings.” Cosmo looked hopeful once more, if not cautiously so. “I know they’re probably not fruits, and it’s hard to explain why, but… I think maybe they could work?”</p><p>Arcade tugged one free with a gloved hand and examined it closely. He’d heard of Goodsprings before; it was a little backwater town to the Southwest. He had to wonder just how the courier ended up there of all places.</p><p>But he didn’t spare another thought on that, instead focusing on the roots before him. “I’ll admit, I don’t know much about this particular tuber, but it’s worth a shot. Certainly can’t make things worse. But before that,” he pointed to the table while giving Cosmo a pointed look, “this entire area needs to be cleaned. <em>Thoroughly</em>. As do your hands, they’re absolutely filthy.”</p><p>“Are they?” Cosmo looked to his palms, bewildered; they looked alright to him. “Er, sorry…”</p><p>“Just—here.” Arcade shoved a damp rag into his hands; it smelled heavily of chemical cleaner. He was more excited than he cared to admit. This was a new variable, and he was keen to test it, if only to break up the monotony of his task.</p><p> </p><p>####</p><p> </p><p>The sky had taken on a dusty red hue by the time the tent was cleaned to Arcade’s standards. This time he allowed Cosmo to stand nearby as he carefully desiccated the root, then turned it into a fine powder. “The manner in which we add it to the mixture matters,” he explained as he worked, “so for now I’m just going to add in a bit and see what happens.”</p><p>“Is there something you’re looking for when you do?”</p><p>“A reaction.” Arcade gathered some of the powder into what looked like a measuring spoon. “Specifically, I want this to turn from clear to blue. Any shade will do right now.”</p><p>Carefully he began to sprinkle a bit of the powder into the beaker and the mixture itself, and they both held their breath. For one brief moment, nothing happened—perhaps in his anticipation and exasperation, Arcade's hold on the spoon slipped, dumping in more than he'd intended. Then the concoction shifted to a royal blue, before promptly exploding, sending a plume of acrid purple smoke into both their faces.</p><p>Instinctively Arcade put his arm out in front of Cosmo and pushed him back from the table, using the other to cover his mouth and nose and knocking his chair over in his haste to retreat with him.</p><p>“Well—” he sputtered, “<em>that</em> certainly was a reaction.”</p><p>Blinking the tears out of his stinging eyes, Cosmo coughed, “I-I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have suggested it—”</p><p>“Actually, I don’t think it was the root that was the issue.” As the smoke cleared, they got a look at the liquid dripping off of the sides of the table and into the dirt. It still had a deep blue hue. “I think that was purely to do with the amount used. My hand slipped a bit.”</p><p>“R-Really?” Cosmo tried to see it for himself, but his eyes were watering too much.</p><p>“Yes. Can’t you see that it’s changed color—” Turning to look at his impromptu assistant, Arcade paled at the sight of him rubbing at his eyes. In his excitement, he’d forgotten to furnish him with protective eyewear. “Shit—come with me.”</p><p>He didn’t wait for an answer, instead grabbing onto Cosmo’s wrist and pulling him out of the tent. There was an eyewashing station set up behind it, and he all but dragged the poor courier over and held his face beneath the faucet. “We need to rinse your eyes out, now.”</p><p>The second the water hit Cosmo’s face it was instant relief, even if it felt like he was being waterboarded the whole time. “S-Sorry—”</p><p>“Stop talking or it’s going to end up going into your mouth.”</p><p>A full five minutes later, Arcade turned the water off and handed him a towel. “Don’t rub. Pat your face dry,” he instructed. Then, he held up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”</p><p>“Uh—three.”</p><p>“Good. What color are my eyes?”</p><p>Cosmo squinted slightly. “… A really pretty grey.”</p><p>Whether it was an intentional compliment or not, it made Arcade’s cheeks turn pink. “A simple ‘grey’ was what I was looking for,” he muttered, before clearing his throat. “But thank you. I think we managed to avoid causing damage to your vision. That was my mistake for not giving you proper protection before we started.”</p><p>“But the experiment worked, right? That’s what you said?”</p><p>“Er—relatively speaking. At the very least the reaction I was looking for occurred.”</p><p>Cosmo smiled. “Don’t worry about it, then. Some blurry vision is a small price to pay to advance the sciences.”</p><p>“… Do you really, honestly believe that?”</p><p>“Mhm!” He nodded, then looked down to his feet with a guilt-ridden smile. “I’d give up my eyes altogether if it meant atoning for some of the things I’ve done in the past.”</p><p>“Well that’s… morbid.”</p><p>“I know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “… Shouldn’t we go and clean up the tent again?”</p><p>“Actually… I can do that myself.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“I said I’ve got it. Besides, the tent has to air out before it’s safe to go back in.” Arcade started shoo-ing him away. “Go find that ghoul boyfriend of yours, I’m sure he’s looking for you.”</p><p>Uncertain and feeling guilty for causing such a disaster in the first place, Cosmo began to walk away. Before he could take more than a few steps, though, Arcade spoke again.</p><p>“Er--Cosmo?”</p><p>He stopped and looked back. “Yeah?”</p><p>“Thank you. Your assistance was… actually quite useful. And appreciated.”</p><p>The words almost felt foreign as they came out. Arcade never thought the day would come that he would be thanking <em>Cosmo Music</em> for helping him. But as he watched the courier smile and wave good-bye, and head off into the dusk to find Raul, he labored to believe this Cosmo and that one were one and the same person. In many ways, they really weren’t.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was written awhile ago when my writers' block was setting in, and it kinda shows- it's a mess, and I'm sorry about that ;_; hopefully it's cute enough to make up for how nothing actually happens</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Compared the the Strip, with its bright lights and posh clientele, Freeside was the slums; the streets were lined with refuse, broken and empty bottles, spent chems, and more often than not the people who had consumed them. There was a general air of dirt, of despair, of poverty, and it existed on every surface, in every building, in the persons of those who called it home.</p><p>And there were plenty of them to be found all around, for unlike the Strip, all were welcome—though it was almost always those without wealth who chose to live within its confines.</p><p>This much Cosmo was able to remember, though even if he didn’t, he would have come to guess as much just from taking in the sights on his way from the Fort. He was struck not just by the unkempt pallor of the makeshift town, but by just how many people were also walking its streets. It was a veritable bustling metropolis.</p><p>“Are there—are there usually this many people here?” He asked of Raul, who he felt compelled to remain close to as they navigated the busy main road.</p><p>“Oh yeah. This is business as usual for Freeside.” There was an amused half-grin on Raul’s face at the way Cosmo’s head swiveled on his neck. He looked exactly like an enthusiastic tourist. “C’mon now, you should be watching where you’re going instead of doing your best owl imitation.”</p><p>“I’m just—trying to get a good look at everything—”</p><p>He winced and came to an abrupt stop, keeping his head very very still.</p><p>“Tweaked your neck?”</p><p>“… Maybe.”</p><p>Raul shook his head with a sigh. “Seriously, boss, what am I gonna do with you?”</p><p>“Uh…” Cosmo gave him a sheepish, if pained, smile. “Love me anyway because that’s just how I am?”</p><p>“Bit early to be busting out the L-word, don’t you think?”</p><p>Cosmo’s cheeks ignited. “W-Wait, wai-wai-wait that’s not—I didn’t—I didn’t mean <em>love</em> me love me—it’s just a saying—”</p><p>Amused, Raul just stood there and let him dig himself a deeper hole. “So what I’m getting now is that you’re actually not into me.”</p><p>“N-No! That’s not what I mean either!”</p><p>“Givin’ me a lot of mixed messages here, boss. Which is it?”</p><p>“I-Isn’t it obvious?” The courier pouted. “Do I need to kiss you or something to prove it? Cos we haven’t yet, and I’ll do it.” </p><p>“Oh? You sure about that?” Raul rubbed his jaw. “Maybe we did and you just forgot.”</p><p>“Nope. I wouldn’t forget something like that.” Abruptly Cosmo came to a stop, and with Raul nearly running into the back of him. “And you know what?”</p><p>“No. What?”</p><p>Raul snickered quietly at his own stupid joke—and then went completely silent when the courier turned around, stood up on his tiptoes (Cosmo was on the short side, Raul was not) and kissed him. Right in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day.</p><p>“That’s what.” There was a playful look on the courier’s pink-tinged face, contrasting with the gobsmacked, almost <em>embarrassed</em> one on Raul’s. “Still getting mixed messages, or was that one clear enough?”</p><p>“I—er—”</p><p>Raul’s voice trailed off into a series of confused utterances; he hadn’t actually expected Cosmo to out and out kiss him like that. Of course that he knew there was interest there, on both sides—that much was obvious—but he’d gotten it in his head that that was <em>all</em> it was. After all, he was just a wrinkled old pre-war ghoul. He couldn’t fathom what it was that the courier found appealing about any of that.</p><p>After several seconds of standing there, Cosmo took hold of his hand and began to pull him along. “C’mon, we’re in the way of people… Where exactly are we going again?”</p><p>“Y-You’re gonna give me whiplash, boss—” He cleared his throat, allowing himself to be led down the street. “Mick &amp; Ralph’s. We’re going to Mick &amp; Ralph’s.”</p><p>“Which is…” No sooner had they started walking did Cosmo stop again, looking around gingerly on account of his neck. “… That way?”</p><p>“Other way.”</p><p>The brief hopeful look on his face vanished. “Damn. I was almost sure that time.”</p><p>“I mean, if you flip the compass around you basically had it right.” They started walking again, in the right direction. “Do you even remember what we’re doing?”</p><p>“I do, actually. We’re gonna try and get a supply line going for the Followers.” He pouted. “I don’t forget <em>everything</em>, y’know.”</p><p>“Pretty sure that’s just you forgetting all the times you forgot before. But color me impressed.” Lightly Raul tapped the top of Cosmo’s head with his knuckles. “Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought you were. By the way, you can let go of my hand now; I got the message already.”</p><p>“… But I don’t want to.”</p><p>His honesty once more caught Raul off-guard, and he choked on his own breath. “You can’t—you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Doing what on purpose?”</p><p>“Messing with me like this.”</p><p>“I’m not messing with you.” He frowned. “If you don’t like it, just say so. I don’t like getting mixed messages.”</p><p>“You—” Raul caught sight of the glint in the courier’s eyes. “… So you <em>are</em> messing with me.”</p><p>“Well now I am, cos you’re acting weird about it. Seriously, does it bother you that much? Because I won’t do it anymore if it does.”</p><p>With a sigh, Raul ran a weathered hand across his face. “Just—it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been interested in anyone. Let alone have someone interested in <em>me.</em> You’re gonna have to give me some time to get used to the idea.”</p><p>“Really?” Cosmo stopped again and looked back at him. Now he was extremely confused; had he somehow read their whole relationship wrong? “But you said all that cheesy stuff in front of everyone the other day.”</p><p>“… Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” He paused. “Alright, fuck it. If you’re down for it, then so am I. Just don’t start complaining when you realize I’m not nearly as exciting as you think I am.”</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The crackle of the fire broke up the quietness of the evening. It was a familiar moment for Raul, stirring the pot of beans that boiled over the dancing flames; it hadn’t been that long since he and Cosmo had last camped out on the road like this.</p><p>For Arcade though, it was a foreign concept, and he wanted nothing to do with the merry campfire—no, he was much too concerned with more important things, like them sitting out in the open where any number of monsters of the night or malicious actors could chance upon them. And then where would they be? Dead, if they were lucky. No thank you.</p><p>“Ugh, what did I do to piss off Julie enough for this…?”</p><p>Cosmo tore his eyes away from the book in his hands. “She… didn’t seem upset when she talked to us this morning?”</p><p>“Of course not, Julie doesn’t show emotion for anything. But she had to have been in a bad mood. Why else would she send you two on this doomed goodwill mission? And why else would she make <em>me</em> go with you?”</p><p>Raul wore an amused half-grin as he tasted the beans—over-salted and metallic. Perfect. “I dunno, Arcade. You should ask her when we get back.”</p><p>“<em>If</em> we get back.” The scientist scooted around to face the pair—they were, in his opinion, entirely too calm and relaxed about their given task. “These are the <em>Khans</em> we’re supposed to be communicating with. At their own settlement, where they’ll have us completely outnumbered and we’ll be at their complete mercy.”</p><p>Curious, Cosmo set the book aside to give the man his full attention. “Are they really so dangerous? The way Julie talked about them—”</p><p>“Of course they’re dangerous. They almost single-handedly supply the entire Mojave with chems. You don’t get to be the main supplier of <em>anything</em> without serious muscle and gunpower.” He took off his glasses and with the hem of his shirt began furiously cleaning the dust from the lenses. A self-soothing gesture. “I respect Julie—in fact, she terrifies me—but I don’t know what she’s thinking, trying to reach some sort of alliance or whatever with those lunatics.”</p><p>“Guess that’s why she’s the leader and you’re not, eh?” Raul chuckled, and Arcade bristled. “Relax. I’m pretty sure that she wouldn’t send you on a suicide mission.”</p><p>“Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure of that?”</p><p>“Because you’re damn useful and know what you’re doing.”</p><p>“… I’m nothing special. Just an average scientist.”</p><p>“An average scientist,” Cosmo scooted a bit closer and gave him a reassuring smile, “who just so happens to create new medicines on a regular basis. C’mon, give yourself some credit.”</p><p>He turned away from him so he wouldn’t have to see that smile. “I wouldn’t happen upon half of my discoveries without outside intervention, as you yourself should know with the super stimpak. Again, I’m nothing special.”</p><p>“Hey man, believe what you wanna believe.” Raul ladled some beans into a worn bowl and held it out to him. “Just do it while you’re eating, ¿sí? Unless you want cold beans.”</p><p>Arcade stared at the bowl; after a time, his growling stomach drove him to reluctantly accept it. “How the hell are you two so casual out here?” he asked as they helped themselves. “Do you value your lives, like, at all?”</p><p>“Not really,” they answered as one, leaving him speechless.</p><p><em>‘Great. I’m on a suicide mission with a pair of suicidal morons,’</em> he fumed over his beans. He nearly spilled the entire bowl in his lap when Cosmo’s bag began to <em>bleep </em>and <em>bloop</em> and move of its own accord.</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> is that thing?!” He demanded when Cosmo freed E-DE from its confines. “Is that an Eyebot?”</p><p>“Mhm!” Cosmo affectionately pet its chassis as if it were a cat, and Arcade swore it began to purr like one too. “Fixed ‘im myself back in…”</p><p>His voice trailed off, and the proud smile on his face faded. He almost looked… melancholic.</p><p>“… Well? At least finish your sentence.”</p><p>“Sorry. I can’t remember the place…”</p><p>There was a melancholic tone to his voice, his face screwing up slightly in his attempt to recall the elusive memories. In a way, Arcade felt just the smallest amount of sympathy for him—</p><p>No, not sympathy. Pity, maybe, but not sympathy. At least that was what he told himself.</p><p>“… Anyway,” and then the courier was back to his dumb self, smiling away at nothing, “speaking of your discoveries, what other stuff have you made?”</p><p>“Wh—what do you mean speaking of, that conversation happened like five minutes ago.”</p><p>“… Did it?”</p><p>“Not quite, but yeah.” Raul sank down beside him with beans of his own. “C’mon boss, try and keep up.”</p><p>“Well—”</p><p>Arcade cleared his throat, derailing Cosmo’s train of thought before it even left the station. “Again, my contributions are lackluster, and I honestly have no idea why you’re fascinated with them. But I suppose I can at least talk about some of my… more interesting mishaps in the lab. If only to sate your curiosity.”</p><p>He set his bowl aside—the beans just weren’t cutting it for his appetite that night—and over the crackles of the fire began to recount his early days with the Followers. A time filled with a multitude of amateur and frankly embarrassing mistakes that he didn’t think anyone would find interesting, yet Cosmo hung on his every word. Even Raul was drawn into his methodical, if stiff, story-telling, his sharp recollection of minute details and his reflections on what went wrong.</p><p>It was the opposite of how the Followers would have reacted—such tales were commonplace, everyday, ordinary, and they had much more pressing matters to focus on, after all. But these two, they genuinely wanted to hear what Arcade had to say. And that…</p><p>Well, it was nice. Before he knew it, the fire had just about died out, and he’d all but talked himself hoarse. It might just have been the most he’d talked since he’d joined the Followers, to be honest.</p><p>“Are you satisfied now?” he asked Cosmo, his voice almost as raspy as Raul’s.</p><p>The way the courier’s eyes glittered through his fatigue was answer enough. “I was happy hours ago.”</p><p>“Good. Don’t expect me to do this again—not that there will be another chance to, anyway, not after this job is done…” The words devolved into crackles. In vain, he tried to clear his throat; it did nothing to help. He’d have to let his voice rest for awhile.</p><p>His face plastered with a grin, Raul dug a Nuka Cola from his beloved sweet stash. “Heh. You sound parched, amigo. Here.”</p><p>“I’m not the biggest fan of… you know what, Nevermind. Hand it over.”</p><p>The <em>kssshh</em> that hissed out when he popped the cap off was satisfying, and the carbonation was rather inviting and felt good on his scratchy throat.</p><p>“Thank you,” he said in haste after that first sip. “I hope you don’t drink this regularly, though.”</p><p>“Who, me?” Raul shrugged. “Depends on how much we find lying around, really.”</p><p>“You <em>do</em> know these drinks are a one-way ticket to decaying teeth and early death, right?”</p><p>“Eh. The way I see it, if I was gonna get something I’d have got it by now.” The ghoul dug another bottle from his stash. “Want a sip, boss?”</p><p>“Oooh, yes please.”</p><p>Faint disdain furrowed Arcade’s brow as he watched them share the drink; for a germaphobe like himself, it was horrific to see. And yet, the bitter aftertaste of jealousy lingered at the tip of his tongue at the sight. Not specifically of the two of them, but just of their closeness. He couldn’t even remember the last time another man had gazed at him with the warmth that those two gave each other.</p><p>Ever so slightly put off, he sullenly took another sip, pulling his eyes away from them as he turned the cap from his own bottle over in his fingers. The sight of painted blue  on the underside of it nearly made him choke on the cola.</p><p>“Whoa—are you okay?” Cosmo crawled over to his side as he sputtered and coughed, to which he nodded, holding up a hand to say ‘give me a moment’.</p><p>Raul’s brow raised. “Forgot how to drink or something?”</p><p>“N-No—” coughed Arcade, “who do you—think I am—<em>him</em>?” With a face that was red, both from embarrassment and the strain, he hastily held up the bottle cap for them to see. In the center of the blue was a single white star. “I was just surprised is all.”</p><p>Surprise tilted the courier’s head to the side. “Oh, do you collect them too?”  </p><p>“Er—well, I wouldn’t exactly call myself a collector. I only have a handful of them. I’m certainly not like those maniacs that go around killing people for one…”</p><p>“But you like them, yeah?”</p><p>“… Yes, generally people collect things that they like.”</p><p>That was enough for Cosmo, who rooted around in his own bag. “I have a few that I found lying around—you can have them if you want.”</p><p>“You—wait, what?”</p><p>He was confused. The bottle caps were rare, and he just mentioned how people were being murdered for them, they were that valuable. And yet Cosmo was just going to give him some?</p><p>Oblivious to Arcade’s befuddlement, Cosmo held his hand out; in his palm were six more, glowing with the reflection of the dying fire. “Here.”</p><p>“A… Are you sure?” the scientist managed to ask, hesitant as the caps were tipped into his own.</p><p>“Sure I’m sure. You know more about them than I do.” Cosmo gave him a small smile, then scooted over to where E-DE and his bag were. “I can keep watch tonight. It’ll give me a chance to tinker with E-DE a bit.”</p><p>“Sure boss, just leave me to freeze all alone,” joked Raul.</p><p>Cosmo’s face fell. “Oh—I forgot—”</p><p>“Bromeo. I’m just pulling your leg. The tent’s close enough to the fire that it’ll keep warm enough, so long as you keep it going.”</p><p>“Alright… Well, good night you two. Sweet dreams.”</p><p>The tent was a tight squeeze for the three of them, but with two it was bearable. Carefully Arcade added the caps to his collection, then rolled out his sleeping bag and attempted to get comfortable.</p><p>“Do you really trust him to keep watch?” he asked Raul, who had a much easier time settling in on the hard ground. “He might forget what he’s doing. Or doze off and let the fire go out—or worse, let it get out of control.”</p><p>Raul tucked his arms beneath his head. “I trust him with my life,” he said simply. “He already saved it once before. Doesn’t matter how forgetful he gets, or what kind of person he is or used to be. So long as he’s happy, that’s all I care about.” </p><p>“And that’s all well and good, but that doesn’t explain why you can trust him so implicitly—”</p><p>With a yawn, Raul shifted onto his side. “We got a long trip still ahead of us, and this old man needs his rest. Buenas noches.”</p><p>And that was that, as much as Arcade hated being brushed off so abruptly. Nothing ground his gears more than an unfinished conversation or an unanswered question. But the ghoul was snoring in a matter of seconds, leaving him to stew silently on the other side of the tent.</p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The dazzling lights of New Vegas disappeared below the horizon behind them, and the maw of Red Rock Canyon opened wide to swallow them whole. Dusty brown dirt shifted to red hues as they strode down the winding country road, and sparse grass broke through the parched earth and cracks in the asphalt.</p><p>Dusk stained the darkening sky with a vibrant gradient of reds and yellows that faded into deep blues and blacks. A clear night let the stars and moon light their way, and the songs of cicadas kept them company.</p><p>“The sky’s so clear out here.”</p><p>Cosmo’s voice drowned out the peaceful chorus, even though his words were uttered in awe. The reflection of the stars shone in his clear eyes, and Arcade could almost see the galaxy itself within that dark silver abyss.</p><p>Like Cosmo, Raul came to a stop and tipped his head back to drink in the canvas painted above them. “Sí,” he agreed quietly. “We’re far enough out that the lights from the Strip don’t pollute the sky.”</p><p>“Alright, if you’re done doing your best ostrich in the rain impersonations…” Arcade’s foot tapped impatiently; if he had a wristwatch he’d have been looking at it condescendingly. “We’re out in the open still.”</p><p>“C’mon amigo, you gotta learn to slow down and appreciate the small things sometimes.”</p><p>“I’d rather be alive to appreciate them later.”</p><p>Cosmo tore his eyes away to look at Arcade. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s gonna happen.” He took a step to the side so he stood by the scientist and gave a reassuring smile. “And even if it did, we’d protect you.”</p><p>“Look, that doesn’t exactly make me feel any safer. Besides, I can see the sky just fine over the mountain. So could we please get a move on so we can get this over and done with?”</p><p>Even through the dark, he could see the courier’s face fall. “Oh… sorry. I didn’t—you really don’t like being with us, huh?”</p><p>“Well, really it’s only<em>…</em>”</p><p>He stopped himself as the thought finished itself in his head. <em>‘It’s only you I have a problem with.’</em> The result of long-standing grudges he bore against a Cosmo that didn’t exist anymore. This person standing before him now, he couldn’t bring himself to say that to. Especially not when he already wore such a downtrodden look on his face.</p><p>Running his hand through his hair, he exhaled a deep breath. “It’s not you two. I just feel like a sitting duck out here. But fine, I’ll play the ostrich game for a minute. Just—stop looking at me like that, please.”</p><p>It was just a night sky. There was one every twenty-four hours; he couldn’t understand why these two were so fascinated with this one.</p><p>Yet when he tilted his head back and let his gaze take in the sight of it, his breath was stolen from his lungs. It was enrapturing, how crystal-clear the stars were as they sparkled. How he could see a dust line of the ones far-away. They were so numerous, an endless ocean that swirled into faint hues of reds, blues, purples, yellows.</p><p>It was just a night sky, and yet… had it always had such clarity?</p><p>They all three stood there in the road, silent once more; the cicada chorus sang anew, and the stars almost twinkled to the tune. All thoughts of pressing dangers and of their mission were as far away in their minds as the sky above was.</p><p>“… Seems as good a place as any to set up camp for the night.”</p><p>Raul broke from the reverie first, unsure if they even heard him speak. The tent was already pitched by the time the bitter night air brought them to join him.</p><p>A tranquility befell, a relaxation that was quite a foreign concept to men of the wasteland. Sleep came quickly to Cosmo, snuggled up to Raul to keep the ghoul warm.</p><p>It was a struggle for a tired Arcade to get comfortable in his bedroll, which did little to stave off the cold; in the midst of his restless shifting, he could see Raul’s hand gesturing through the darkness.</p><p>“… What?”</p><p>“Bring it in,” the ghoul scooted onto his back and extended his free arm to the scientist.</p><p>Arcade bristled at the invitation. “I’m not that cold.”</p><p>“Ey, in a tent this small it’s gonna end up happening eventually. Might as well get it over with so it’s less awkward in the morning.”</p><p>“… Is that what happened with you two?”</p><p>Raul glanced to Cosmo. “Nah. Well, sí, in a way. But also no. Ghouls like me, we get real cold at night.”</p><p>“… I’m aware of that, yes.”</p><p>After a moment, Arcade scooted his sleeping bag closer. “I highly doubt that you’re cold with him that close to you, but fine. I’ve been playing along with your games so far, might as well continue doing it.”</p><p>“Heh. Whatever helps you sleep, Arcade.” Raul closed his eyes as Arcade set his glasses to the side. “Feel free to get as up close ‘n personal as you want. Night.”</p><p>“Night…”</p><p>How this was less awkward, Arcade didn’t know, but he couldn’t deny one thing: the sensation of another man’s warmth beside him, an arm loosely wrapped around him as he drifted into an uncomfortable sleep….</p><p>This, too, was sort of nice.</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If the sun was brutal in and around the Strip, it was punishing in the Canyon. Its rays mercilessly scorched the reddened earth, a dry heat that evaporated any moisture in the soil. The entire canyon was surrounded by mountains that pierced the endless blue sky, but no cooling wind blew in off of them; they were as barren as the valley. Some few cacti grew in clusters here and there, and bright pink flowers blossomed upon their prickled surfaces.</p><p>It was the existence of those flowers that made Red Rock Canyon such a dangerous place. Their vibrant hues and sweet scent attracted wretched winged insects the size of large dogs. Cazadors, Raul called them. Mutated tarantula hawk wasps, with a wingspan of several feet and feet covered in hooks and barbs an inch long—though not as long as their fatal stinger, which could grow long enough to fully impale a grown man. And if the wound didn’t kill you outright, the poison pumped in through it just might.</p><p>It was their presence all around that made the journey into Red Rock so dangerous, more than roaming bandits. Hot days like this would spur the cactus flowers to bloom, and the cazadors would come in droves. And so they took each step one at a time, slowly. Their eyes and ears primed for the buzzing of their wings, for where there was one, there were more—and it was much easier to avoid them altogether than to try and kill them.</p><p>Crouched behind a rock, Raul held his arm out to keep the other two still. He squinted past the side, searching the wavering mirages in the distance.</p><p>“Hard to tell if there are any ahead,” he admitted. His hand apprehensively rubbed the damp towel covering his head, pulling one corner away from his ear so he could listen. “… Think we’re safe to get to that outcropping over there. The shady one; we can take a break there.”</p><p>“I’m calling bullshit on Julie not being angry at me,” muttered Arcade under his breath, following in Raul’s shadow as they moved. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”</p><p>Cosmo covered the rear, treading so lightly that his footfalls scarce made a noise in the dirt. He blinked beads of sweat from his eyes, hands clutching at his rifle just in case.</p><p>“We’re gonna be fine, Arcade.” His voice was a whisper, yet still enough to make the edgy scientist jump. “Raul’s got us covered from the front and I’ve got us from the back.”</p><p>“That does nothing to make me feel better.” His gulp was audible as something moved in the distance, his utterings coming faster. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…”</p><p>But it was only a gecko, and it darted into a group of rocks off of the road. They all three breathed a collective sigh of relief and reached the outcropping. The shade offered little reprieve from the heat, but it was something.</p><p>“The Khans really live here?” asked Cosmo, after taking a swig of water from the canteen.</p><p>Arcade gave a noncommittal shrug. “According to everyone who knows about them, yeah. But they could all collectively be lying.”</p><p>“You mean you haven’t remembered, boss?” asked Raul as he wrung the towel out onto his head; confused, Cosmo tilted his to the side. “We’ve visited the Khans before.”</p><p>“Really?!” both Arcade and Cosmo exclaimed.</p><p>“Sí, a couple of times actually. We used to run drug packages for them to the Strip.”</p><p>Cosmo’s face fell as Arcade’s glowered with disdain. “We did?”</p><p>“You were part of the problem!” The words were hissed with an accusatory finger jabbed in Cosmo’s direction. “Do you have any idea how many addicts relapsed with your help? Have you any inkling of how many might have died of overdoses that you supplied?”</p><p>“I-I did—I-I don’t—I’m so sorry--”</p><p>“Hey,” Raul caught Arcade by the elbow, “cálmate. What’s done is done; he’s not that person anymore. We talked about that already.”</p><p>“Oh we did, did we? I distinctly recall you ending that conversation prematurely—”</p><p> Their voices had grown louder in the heat of the moment, rivaling the heat radiating all around them. Cosmo fell into a frantic silence, unable to articulate his words as he grappled with the new knowledge; Raul and Arcade continued to bicker, completely unaware.</p><p><em>‘Harassing people, killing, stealing, supplying drugs…’</em> The courier stared down at his palms. At this point he was half expecting to find out he straight up raped people, he had been such an awful person.</p><p>And then, faintly, scarcely over the voices of his companions, he heard it. The buzzing of many pairs of wings. In the seconds that he’d been focused on his hands, they had been drawn to the shouting. Surrounding them.</p><p>“Cazadors--!”</p><p>Heart in his throat he grabbed hold of his companions by the shoulder and abruptly turned them outwards. The argument was broken in an instant, and the color drained from all three of their faces as they stared into many, many pairs of orange-tinted compound eyes.</p><p>A stinger glinted in the light, and Raul quickly dragged the others out of harms way. “Move!” he urged, giving them both a hard shove to get them going as he drew his pistol. He knew that there was little chance of him actually hitting one of the bastards with his eyesight, but he damn well was going to try anyway.</p><p>“C’mon Arcade!”</p><p>With a surprisingly strong grip Cosmo took hold of Arcade’s hand and dragged him along. It was awkward as hell to hold his rifle with just one hand, but he feared that the man would fall behind. He could hear the buzzing getting closer, growing louder than the pounding of their feet against the road.</p><p>Shots rang out across the mountains around them, all missing their mark; he glanced back to see Raul backpedaling after them, both hands steadying his aim—but he couldn’t keep up with the two of them.</p><p>A split second judgment call that would haunt him spurred Cosmo to release Arcade’s hand and give him another shove forward. “Keep running--!”</p><p>His blood ran cold in his veins when he heard it. The sound of stinger piercing flesh, and Raul’s strained grunt of pain after. His silver eyes fell upon the sight of a stinger embedded deep in the ghoul’s stomach when he turned to look back again, and he felt sick.</p><p>More of the vicious bugs moved in, only to explode into bloody bits from Cosmo’s rifle. His strength fast fading, Raul grabbed hold of the stinger stabbing him and ripped it from his flesh—then ripped the stinger off of the bug itself, throwing it to the ground as he sank to his knees.</p><p>“Cosmo,” he grunted as the courier ran towards him, “forget about me—you gotta cover Arcade, I can’t do it for you—”</p><p>A lump formed in Cosmo’s throat. Raul used his name. He didn’t usually; it was just ‘boss’ most of the time.</p><p>“Not a chance in hell.” With hands that shook, he grabbed him by the arm and hauled it across his own shoulders to help him stand. “You’ve never left me behind, and I’m not gonna do it to you either.” </p><p>“Boss, it’s—too late for—”</p><p>“Don’t you fucking dare say it. I will drag your ass to the Khans myself if I have to!”</p><p>Stubbornly he pulled more of Raul’s weight onto himself and turned back to Arcade, who shifted his weight nervously back and forth on each foot.</p><p>“Moving him around like this is only going to make the venom spread faster,” he said, voice slightly faint from anxiety and shock; he had to avert his eyes from the gaping wound in the ghoul’s stomach. “Let’s go back to that outcropping where it’s shady, we can treat him there.”</p><p>“Heh… ain’t no supplies that we got that can cure cazador venom, amigo.” Raul grimaced through the pain, blinking sweat from his eyes as he pressed his hand against the injury to stem the bleeding. “I’ve been coasting on luck for a long time now; just happened to run out today.”</p><p>“Stop talking like you’re going to die, Raul.” Cosmo tried to haul him up onto his back; if moving him around would make things worse, then he would carry him the rest of the way.</p><p>“I mean,” Arcade began, “he probably is—”</p><p>The look that Cosmo shot his way was enough to shut him up. Tumultuous emotions raged behind those smokey orbits—blind determination, repressed despair, endless optimism. Even Arcade didn’t have it in him to try and crush his hopes this time.</p><p>Wordlessly Cosmo strode forward, unsteady and slow at first; each footfall came faster than the last, gaining momentum until he was in a brisk jog. Raul’s head listed forward over his shoulder; he could hear the ghoul’s haggard, shallow breathing in his ear. But he was still breathing, labored though it was.</p><p>“Why do you think the Khans will even help us?”</p><p>Arcade was breathless beside him, struggling to keep apace. Nervously—and not knowing <em>why</em> he was so nervous about seeing Raul in this state—he took hold of the man’s wrist and felt for his pulse. It was racing. And that only worried him further.</p><p>“They have to. Raul said we delivered for them.”</p><p>“That doesn’t mean they have to do anything. They’re the Khans, they don’t care for their chem mules any less than they do the people they’re peddling to—”</p><p>“They have to!”</p><p>The courier’s voice broke, high pitched from the unchecked anxiety that snuck into it. “They just have to. We won’t leave until they do.”</p><p>“Cosmo, that—you’re going to get us <em>all</em> killed.”</p><p>He just shook his head. He was <em>determined</em> that they would help. That Raul was going to pull through.</p><p>The buzzing returned, and their blood ran cold. Frantic, Arcade glanced back; only a few more of them had come out from the woodwork so to speak, but these ones were twice, three times the size of the ones they’d just put down. Pure nightmare fuel.</p><p>“Okay—okay, listen,” he ran his tongue over his terribly chapped lips, “let me carry him.”</p><p>“NO! I can do this much at least—”</p><p>Arcade grabbed him by the shoulder. “Do you want to make it there or not?! You’re the one who’s good with a gun here, and we don’t have time to argue about it.”</p><p>Their eyes briefly locked, and then the ghoul was on Arcade’s back instead—Arcade didn’t give him time to even answer, nor did he waste any standing around any longer.</p><p>“Are you gonna cover us or what?” he asked over his shoulder.</p><p>“I—”</p><p>Cosmo’s hands tightly gripped the rifle strap slung across his chest. He had to stop panicking. But there wasn’t even time to take a breath to calm himself.</p><p>The nervous energy channeled down the barrel as he whipped the gun around to aim at the giant bugs closing in. One shot, two shot, three, four.</p><p>And then more came, drawn from far around by the echo reverberating over the mountains. What started out as a small cluster was growing into a swarm.</p><p>He blinked sweat from his eyes and ignored the searing of his legs from backpedaling to keep apace with Arcade. A trail of spent bullet casings littered the road behind them. An entire magazine spent, and a fresh one loaded. Bug guts flying through the air, dismembered legs and feelers stuck to his clothes and skin by their gooey innards. His head throbbed, and he felt nauseous from it all. Slowly now, the swarm was thinning.</p><p>
  <em>‘Don’t think about it. Focus on covering them. Focus on covering… on covering…’</em>
</p><p>And then, his finger froze on the trigger; the intense focus on his face fading to an emotionless, blank stare.</p><p>Who?</p><p>It was all gone with the painful pounding in his skull. Confused, he stared down at his gut-covered self. He couldn’t remember what it was from. Where he was. Who he was with.</p><p>The pounding deafened him. The searing red of the canyon around him faded, tuned out like white noise in the background as he turned the gun over in his hands.</p><p>What was he doing with a gun? How did he get here?</p><p>But there was no panic, no anxiety; he was detached from emotion, pseudo-lobotomized in the span of a few brief seconds. Disconnected, a stranger to who he was moments ago.</p><p>Even as the gun in his sight began to blur and go white, the pounding reaching a crescendo that was fit to erupt out of his skull, he was calm.</p><p>Who was he? Who was Cosmo—who was Six?</p><p>And then, vaguely, he recalled,</p><p>“Behind me... I’m supposed to protect…”</p><p>It felt like the world was passing by at half speed. Slowly he turned to look behind him—through the fog blurring his sight, he made out a black mass hovering above a lump on the ground.</p><p>That’s right, he was supposed to use that gun on those things. No sooner had he remembered did the mass explode into bits and pieces. The sound of the shot made his head ache even more, the vibrations radiating up his thin arms to rattle his spine. His attention shifted to the mass, unrecognizable through his eyes.</p><p>The greyscale and white blurs that obscured the world lessened as he lowered his aim down at it. A cold sensation had taken root in his stomach, giving him pause as his finger rested against the trigger.</p><p>Again he asked, who was he protecting?</p><p>And then all at once, it all shattered back to life—the colors of the world returned to him, the oppressive heat suffocated him, the stench of cazador guts made him wretch.</p><p>And the sight of Arcade and Raul, motionless at the end of his muzzle, choked the air from his lungs.</p><p>“Why… why am I pointing my gun at them…?”</p><p>The rifle clattered to the ground to join them as he dropped to his knees. Neither of them were moving. His eyes traced the oozing gash in Arcade’s arm, white stained in a crimson wave that steadily spread down the sleeve.</p><p>Cosmo couldn’t remember what had happened. And the people who could remind him, couldn’t tell him.</p><p>“Red...”</p><p>The blood soaking their clothes, and the vivid dust all around them—they reminded him of a name. A place. Red Rock Canyon.</p><p>And that was all he needed.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a settlement hidden away by the mountains of the canyon itself. Well away from the rest of the Mojave, with only one way in and one way out, Red Rock Canyon had become their only sanctuary after the terrible Bitter Springs Massacre. Here they were safe; they knew the lay of the former tourist attraction better than anyone else. There were scouts always watching, always hidden among the rocky ridges, obscured by the shadows cast from the sun that blazed overhead.</p><p>There would be no repeat of the massacre. Papa made sure of that. His word, his promise, was of great comfort to the many clan members, but it could never take away the lingering fear that crept up in the older ones’ throats whenever they caught sight of travelers on their watch.</p><p> </p><p>####</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The sun was halfway through its path across the sky. On the horizon, a hunched figure appeared through the shimmering heat waves. A mirage at first, or so the scouts first thought. No matter how acclimated you got to the Mojave heat, there would always be mirages.</p><p>Yet rather than vanish, evaporating into the nether like mirages did, the figure came closer. Their form sharpened, and so did the scouts’ senses.</p><p>Cosmo had no way of knowing that there were four guns trained on him as he labored forward. Over his right shoulder was slumped Arcade; over his left, Raul. Their feet dragged through the dirt, leaving trails and making it all the harder to bear their weight with each step. Far, far behind them lay their discarded bags, their tent, all their supplies—abandoned to lighten the load.</p><p>He picked his own heavy head up, his eyes moving from staring at his feet to squint through the heat in front of them. He could make out a split in the mountains; his heart swelled, and a surge of adrenaline renewed his long spent strength.</p><p>Take another step. Then another.</p><p>A violent wave of nausea erupted up his throat out of nowhere, and he had to stop to be sick. It was everything: the heat, the worry, the fear, the dehydration.</p><p>Walk until he couldn’t anymore, and then walk some more.</p><p> </p><p>####</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>By the time his shaking legs bore him and his companions into the shadows cast by the canyon, the scouts had long since abandoned their post—and there was a welcoming party waiting for him.</p><p>Of the six gathered ahead of him, there were no faces that he recognized. Their expressions were unreadable, their stances cold—weapons gleamed just as coldly in their hands, drawn but not aimed. At the forefront stood a great mountain of a man, whose face was obscured by the great bushy beard sprouting from his jaw. He alone was unarmed, yet he somehow was more intimidating.</p><p>“You’re either extremely gutsy, or extremely foolish, to show your face around here again.”</p><p>His words made Cosmo’s hopeful heart sink. The courier stopped a few dozen feet away, shaking from the strain of carrying almost three hundred pounds for so long on his shoulders. Had he made enemies of these people too?</p><p>He swallowed the panic clawing at the back of his throat. “P-Please help them,” he uttered through a trembling jaw. “Please.”</p><p>It was a moment that lasted an eternity, in which he didn’t dare draw a breath. He was prepared to beg, to plead for their lives if he had to.</p><p>But then, the great man uncrossed his folded arms and curtly jerked his head towards him. “Bring them to Diane,” he said, “and bring that one to the longhouse. He has much to answer for.”</p><p>A great wave of relief crashed over Cosmo at those words; regardless of what else would happen, he knew—he just <em>knew</em>, even if he couldn’t remember why—that things would be alright now. That Arcade and Raul would be alright. He clung to that hope as they were taken from his shoulders.</p><p>“Thank you,” he managed, dropping to his knees as all the strength finally left him. His eyes followed the men carrying his friends away, so focused that he didn’t notice a third one come to stand before him.</p><p>“Don’t go thanking us yet.” The man crouched down, and Cosmo finally became aware of his presence. His face felt familiar; a name hovered just out of reach of the courier’s exhausted brain. “They might not even make it—and honestly, I don’t know if you will either.”</p><p>It was a warning that Cosmo struggled to register. The man took hold of his elbow and pulled him back onto legs that now felt like thin jell-o.</p><p>“I don’t—I’m so sorry. I don’t remember what I did wrong. What did I do?”</p><p>The man stopped after just a few steps and looked back at him, incredulous. His eyes traced the scars on Cosmo’s forehead, and widened slightly.</p><p>“You’re kidding.”</p><p>Cosmo wished he was. Sincerely, he wished that this was all an elaborate joke, or a long, long dream. But it wasn't, and wishing wouldn't make it so.</p>
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